The Deep End
by BrianaBree
Summary: My version of season 8. Picks up directly after the events of 'Surprise, Motherfucker', except Hannah (thankfully) never escaped from prison. What happens after Deb makes a decision that changes her life forever? Rated M because Deb is Deb and maybe for some you know what ;)
1. Chapter 1

Hi, whoever may be reading this! I was largely unsatisfied with the final season of Dexter, as I know most fans were, so I decided to flesh out some of the ideas I had for how the show could've ended. I'm very pro Dexter x Deb/ Debster (I kind of hate that ship name though lol) so who knows, maybe you can expect some of that soon ;) I've always loved to write, but this is my first try at writing fanfiction so I would love some feedback. Also, I wrote these first two chapters a little while ago so I figured why not post them both?

xo - Briana

* * *

For the first time in my life, I feel powerless. There's nothing I can do but stand here and watch as my sister clings to the lifeless body of Miami Metro's police captain, or rather, _former _police captain. Deb wraps her arms tightly around Maria's body as if she believes that her embrace can somehow bring the woman back. I know better than anyone that that's not the case. There's no turning back now, no way to right Deb's ultimate wrong. When torn between light and darkness, she chose darkness. Deb chose me, and I can't say that I understand why. Wouldn't it have been easier to just listen to Maria? If Deb had shot me, her whole world wouldn't have come crashing down, and wouldn't she be better off without me? I bring nothing to Deb's life but pain. I'm like a parasite, cursed to drain the life from one of the only people I actually love until she's left empty, a shell of her former self.

I slowly walk to Deb and crouch down beside her, unsure of how she'll lash out at me. She's always been so emotional, unable to truly hide her feelings despite how much she may try. It's one of the many qualities that I admire so much about her.

I hesitantly place my hand on her shoulder, hoping that she'll understand how grateful I am despite the fact that I don't deserve her allegiance, or her love. She sharply turns to me, revealing her tear-stained face. Thick, black mascara streaks down her cheeks, and her hazel eyes cut into me like knives. Through her cries she screams something at me that I can't completely make out, though I'm sure I hear the words 'I hate you' somewhere in the mix. Even if she didn't actually say the words, her expression communicates them to me loud and clear.

"Deb…you have to let go," I stutter as rationality returns to the forefront of my mind. "You're contaminating the…"

Before I finish that thought, I feel a sharp pain on my jaw as Deb's fist connects with my face. Okay, I guess I deserved that.

Deb stands and I hurriedly move to stand next to her. We both stare at LaGuerta's limp form for what feels like hours before I break the uncomfortable silence. I don't like it when Deb is quiet. She's usually so animated, so full of life. I'd rather hear the usual flow of profanities spilling from her mouth, or even her telling me that she hates me again, but still she says nothing.

"You should go. I only have to double check a few things, make sure I've properly set the scene. You don't need to be here, Deb."

My damaged little sister says nothing; she just continues standing there, glaring at me. I sigh and make my way back to LaGuerta's body in order to get back to the task at hand: removing any sign that Deb and I were ever here.

* * *

An hour and a half later and Deb and I are back at my place. I put an already sleeping Harrison to bed and thank Jaime for watching him. As always, she brushes it off as no big deal and wishes me goodnight.

I walk back into the living room and notice that Deb is nowhere in sight. I feel a shiver run down my spine and my mind races, wondering where she could have sneaked off to. Is she on her way to turn us both in?

My fears prove to be for nothing as I suddenly hear the shower running. I let out a sigh of relief and plop down on the couch, turning on the TV. Hopefully there's some mindless program on that can help me relax, if only for a few minutes. As usual, I can't escape my own thoughts for too long and my mind drifts back to an hour ago, at Angel's New Year's Eve party.

I had asked Deb if she wanted to make an appearance, adding that Batista would surely notice our absence. Of course, she didn't say anything. Instead, she latched onto my arm and I took that as a yes. She didn't let go of my arm for our entire appearance at the party, and her eyes had lacked their usual spark. Thankfully, our colleagues seemed too drunk to notice. Still, I couldn't help but worry. Have I actually broken Deb – for good this time?

The water stops running, bringing me back to the present. Deb exits the bathroom wearing nothing but one of my old button down shirts. It's comically big on her and if circumstances were different, we probably would've laughed together about how ridiculous she looked.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, even though I don't expect an answer. To my surprise, I get one.

"I'm feeling…clearer."

Deb walks to the kitchen and turns her back to me. I hear the clanking of silverware and Deb hurries out of the kitchen and into my room, closing the door behind her. My eyes dart to the kitchen and I quickly scan the knife block. Sure enough, the biggest knife from the set is missing. I run to my room and try to open the door but of course, it's locked.

"Deb," I whimper desperately, barely even recognizing my own voice. "Deb, open the door."

"N-no." She replies shakily.

I pound my fist on the door and hear her gasp. "Debra, open the fucking door or I'll tear it off its hinges. Now!" I yell.

I hear Deb gently sob, then her voice catches and she yelps out in pain. My mind goes blank and all I see is red. I slam myself against the door repeatedly, pushing thoughts of the loud thuds waking Harrison out of my mind. In a few agonizing seconds, the door finally gives. My eyes dart across the room and I find Deb crouched in a corner, clutching her wrist.

Blood, a vivid crimson, trickles down her wrist and onto the carpet.

"I'm sorry…" She mumbles, turning away from me.

I drop to the floor and crawl over to her. Slowly, I remove her hand from her wrist in order to inspect the wound. Luckily, it's not nearly as deep as I suspected. It's bleeding a lot, though I conclude that it's because she nicked a vein. I quickly remove my shirt and wrap it around her wrist as tightly as I can.

"I have to get you to a hospital. If I leave you in the car for a few seconds can I trust that you won't do anything stupid?"

Deb shakes her head yes and I swiftly scoop her into my arms. I take her out to my car and lay her down across the back seat, locking the doors behind me just in case she decides to go back on her word. I run back into my apartment and throw on the first shirt I see, then I quickly go to Harrison's room and pick him up carefully so I won't wake him. I know that I shouldn't risk him seeing Debra like this, but I can't just leave him here alone and there certainly isn't any time to spare. I have to save Deb.

* * *

I pull up to the emergency room and rush out of the car, cradling a thankfully still sleeping Harrison in my arms as Deb joins me at my side. We walk towards the ER and I notice how tired she looks. Her eyes are bloodshot, but I recognize that their familiar spark is back. It's a small spark, so small that nobody but me would notice, but it's there. Maybe some bandages and a good night's sleep are all she needs?

I can't believe that Deb would actually want to kill herself. I _refuse_ to believe it. How could she feel so bad that she would view suicide as her only option? No, it's simply not possible.

The doors at the ER entrance slide open and I flag down the first nurse I see.

"Excuse me miss. My sister, she uh, she accidentally cut her wrist. She really needs help. Please." I blurt out. I know that the nurse will know this was no accident, but there's no need for everyone in the ER to know that my sister made an attempt on her life tonight.

The nurse sympathetically nods in my direction and gently grabs onto Deb's wrist, applying pressure to the wound. She alerts a few other nurses, and just like that, Deb is taken away from me.

I move to the waiting room, and it isn't until I lay Harrison down in the seat next to me that I realize my hands are shaking.


	2. Chapter 2

I've always really fucking hated hospitals. I don't know…something about being surrounded by a bunch of people that are facing death has just never been my thing. Isn't it funny that I'm one of them now? Even funnier that I'm the reason I'm here. No, that _Dexter_ is the reason I'm here.

Okay, maybe that's not completely fair; but if he'd never come into my life, I surely wouldn't have done…what I did. Sometimes I fantasize about how my life would be if Harry never brought the poor kid home. I'd sure as hell be dedicated to my job, and I'd probably still have pretty strong morals. Maybe I'd even have a few kids by now. Actually, no…I don't think kids would ever be a part of my future. Not in this universe or some parallel one. I'm not exactly mother material.

I chuckle at the thought of me trying to raise a kid. Me! The lady wrapping up my wrist turns to face me and her expression just screams judgment. Ha! Nurse Ratched over here obviously doesn't think I'm very funny. Wait, she can't even hear what I'm thinking about right now. She probably thinks I'm psychotic, laughing after I've been brought to the ER with a slit wrist. Jesus Christ, I really am going off the deep end.

"Ms. Morgan, do you have any family or friends with you today?" The nurse asks.

I open my mouth, ready to ask her how the hell she knows my name, but I close it when I realize she probably recognizes me. Ever since I became Lieutenant, I've been getting a lot of face time on the local news. Greeeat, just what I need, all of my shit going public. I can see the headline now: _MMP Lieutenant attempts suicide! Why did no one see the signs?_

The last thing I need is the entire department up my ass trying to help me through this. As if they have even the slightest clue how to fix me.

"Yeah, my brother's outside. Dexter Morgan." I reply as the nurse finishes bandaging me up. Turns out that the cut wasn't that deep, and honestly, I'm relieved. I don't think I actually wanted to die. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find out that this had all been some sick dream.

The nurse returns after a few minutes with Dexter following closely behind her, clutching Harrison strongly to his chest. Man, that kid can sleep through just about anything.

"I'll give you a little while with her, then we'll transfer her to psych." The nurse says. As she walks away I turn to glare at my brother.

"Did she just say psych? As in _psych ward_?" I question, careful not to raise my voice too high in case the nurse is still lurking close by. No need to give her another reason to think I'm a basket case.

"Yes," Dexter answers as he places Harrison down on a chair beside me. "She asked me if I think being placed on 72 hour suicide watch would be good for you and I said yes."

"Wha-what the fuck would you do that for!?" I ask. I hear my voice crack and feel my eyes start to water and the embarrassment floods to the surface. I don't like acting so vulnerable around Dexter. I hate letting him see how much he affects me sometimes.

"Deb, you tried to hurt yourself. Trust me, I'd bring you home and watch you myself, but you're sneaky. You could get away from me and then it'd be too late, and I can't risk that. You'll be safe here, and it's only a couple of days. Please."

_I'd bring you home._ _Home. _His words echo in my mind and I blink away the tears I feel starting to form, refusing to let them fall. Does Dexter really think of his home as mine too? Or is this just a manipulation tactic to get me to agree to stay? No matter how much he claims to love me, I know that Dexter is cold and calculating, and I don't put it above him to use my own feelings against me.

"Please?" He repeats.

"_Please_?" I snort. "You're asking me please as if I have a fucking choice in the matter, Dexter. Ugh, I really can't fucking stand you sometimes."

"Well, you staying here means that you'll be around to not fucking stand me, so I'll take what I can get."

"I wasn't going to kill myself…" I reply, but the look on his face tells me that he doesn't believe me. If I didn't _really_ know him, I'd say he looked…worried. Maybe the stoic bastard actually has feelings after all.

"Deb, please, don't try anything. Just cooperate with the doctors, answer whatever questions they ask, and don't give anybody a hard time."

"Answer whatever questions they ask? Truthfully? And what about when they asked me why I tried to off myself, huh? What do I tell them then?"

As soon as I finish speaking, Harrison's eyes flutter open. This kid couldn't have worse timing. He's been getting smarter lately, and more observant. Something tells me that he's going to be begging for an explanation of what happened tonight, and I'm fresh out of cover stories.

"Hey buddy, you're awake!" I say in the cheeriest tone I can manage.

"Aunt Deb, what's going on?" Harrison asks, rubbing his eyes.

I look towards the clock on the wall. It's almost 4 AM. I can't imagine how tired Harrison must still be, and the guilt hits me like a ton of bricks.

"Aunt Deb had an accident, but the doctors patched her up and she's all better now. No need to worry." Dexter replies.

Harrison makes a face just like the one Dexter made a minute or two ago, letting me know that he doesn't completely buy Dexter's excuse, but he doesn't say so. Instead, he smiles at me and says "Okay. You hurt yourself a lot lately."

Dexter winces, clearly affected by Harrison's words. Does he actually feel bad about how much he's hurt me this past year, or does he just regret that his son was able to notice?

The nurse comes back into the room and Dexter leans down to place a kiss on my forehead. He lingers long enough for it to be on the brink of awkwardness.

"I'll visit as often as they let me. It's just three days, and you'll probably end up getting released early. Please Deb, no bullshit."

I roll my eyes then look into his and I can't help but smirk at him slightly. I do it quickly, hoping he won't notice; but of course, he does, and he flashes me a smirk of his own before picking up Harrison.

"I love you." He says, and then he's gone.

* * *

The rest of the morning passes by in a blur, and so does most of the day. Mostly I just sleep, not realizing how tired I really was. When I wake up it's 6:30 in the afternoon, and Dexter is sitting across from me, staring.

"How long have you been here?" I ask, shifting to face him completely.

"An hour." He replies, still staring. We sit like that for a while until I break the silence.

"Err, don't you have work today?" I ask.

"Called in sick," he answers. "I had somewhere more important to be.

"Man, this place. I swear they _want _to drive people crazy. Having nothing to do but stare at a white wall for days and nothing to eat buy shitty hospital food that they don't even give you utensils for isn't exactly stimulating for the mind." I complain. "I can't believe I have to deal with two more days of this shit. Get me out of here, Dex."

"You know I can't," He answers. "Besides, you already seem...better, a couple more days won't hurt. I brought you something." He says, holding up a worn copy of _the Catcher in the Rye_, my favorite book. I must've read it twenty times already, but I appreciate the gesture.

I roll my eyes and he smiles. This time I don't just flash a quick smirk in return, I give him a full smile of my own.

"I'm glad you're okay," he says. "I couldn't bear to lose you. You know that, right?"

I slowly nod my head yes, just as his phone rings. He picks it up, listens to the person on the other end and says "Okay, I'm on my way."

"Where are you going?" I question, not ready for him to leave me yet.

"That was Angel. Laguerta and Estrada…they've been found."


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone! I just want to say thanks for the reviews on the first two chapters. It's great to know that people are actually enjoying my little story :) I don't know if I'll post two chapters every time I update, but writing them in pairs seems easier for me, so who knows?

Deb's chapter is sort of filler, but I _really_ enjoyed writing it. I promise that it's leading up to something! ;)

Anyway, I don't want to ramble. I would love to hear your thoughts, theories, wishes, etc!

* * *

The genuine smile that I've waited so long for quickly fades from Deb's face when I tell her the news. We both knew that this time would come, but neither of us expected it so soon. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, but here we are, forced to deal with the fallout of last night's fateful decision.

"Don't worry," I say, gently squeezing Deb's hand. "I'll be back soon. Everything is going to be okay. The faster I get down there, the faster this will be over."

"It'll never be over." She replies, turning away from me.

* * *

An eerie silence hangs over the shipping yard when I arrive thirty minutes later. Most of my colleagues appear to be hung over from last night's festivities, and there is an added sadness in their eyes because of the loss of their captain. Even Masuka looks disturbed, much to my surprise. I put on my best anguished expression and wander over to the crime scene. Putting on the mask isn't hard for me. After all, I've been forced to do it many times before.

Angel slowly sulks over to me. His eyes are bloodshot from crying, and he doesn't quite look like himself. He isn't wearing his signature fedora or Hawaiian shirt, and he looks…defeated.

"Hey Dex," he begins, lightly placing his hand on my shoulder. "Please, help me make sense of this. I just…give me moment."

Angel looks like he's about to be sick, and I can understand why. He and Maria have been divorced for a few years now, but it's obvious that he still cares deeply for her. That type of unconditional love fascinates me. Most days I doubt that I'm ever capable of feeling it. I thought I came close to it when I was with Hannah, but when forced to choose between her and Deb, there was only one possible outcome. Truthfully, Deb is the only person that I could see myself really loving the way that Angel continues to love Maria.

Angel sharply walks away from me and I take the opportunity to check out the crime scene. Everything is exactly how I'd arranged it last night, except for the numbered markers that now litter the floor of the shipping container.

"It's crazy, huh?" Masuka asks. There's a level of seriousness in his voice that I've never heard before, a sad look in his eyes that I don't think I've ever seen. "A homeless guy came to the station early this morning, said he usually comes here to sleep. He told us that there were two bodies, one male and one female. He even said that it looked like they offed each other. Everyone at the station thought I was just some weird story. No one expected…this."

"Yeah," I reply. "Maria deserved better. She was a good woman."

I make quick work of my assessment of the crime scene and Masuka cosigns when I break down my version of events for Angel. He looks hurt, but seems to accept my story. That was almost _too_ easy.

"Well, if we have all that we need here then I think I'm going to head home." I say, hoping that no one will find it odd that I don't want to stay and mourn with everyone else.

"I'm just going to bag up a few more pieces of evidence and take them back to the lab, but we're all done with the spatter for now. Hot date tonight, huh Dexmeister?" Masuka asks, winking at me. He follows it with his trademark laugh, but it sounds alien today.

"Uh, no. Deb is sick, I was planning on checking in on her." I retort.

"Ah, I was wondering why she wasn't here. Sick? Isn't that just the code word for hung over?" Masuka questions.

Angel shoots Masuka an annoyed expression before addressing me.

"Of course you can, Dex. Give Deb my best, and tell her to give me a call when she gets a chance. Also, you should probably tell her about this. It'll be hard for her to handle but I'd feel better if she heard it from you and not the twelve o'clock news." Angel says as he tries to force a smile.

I flash Angel my most sympathetic grin and head back to my car. I decide to sit there for a while, not quite ready to go back to the hospital. Seeing Deb earlier really affected me and I'm not so sure that me being around her is good for either of us right now.

My mind goes back to the hospital visit. As I watched Deb sleep, she looked almost peaceful. She resembled the sweet, innocent Deb of a few years ago; the moralistic cop from before my dark passenger was exposed to her. Before she made the worst mistake of her life - protecting me even if it meant losing herself in the process.

Suddenly, the peacefulness had stopped. I couldn't tell for sure, but it seemed like she was having a nightmare. In the midst of tossing and turning, she called out my name. I almost answered her, until she moaned.

Initially, I thought the moan was one of pain. I figured that I was hurting her in this dream, and I had half a mind to wake her up and let her know that I was here and that I wouldn't let anything happen to her. However, it turned out that I wasn't hurting her in this dream. I was doing the exact opposite, actually.

"Mmmm yes Dex. Faster." She muttered.

I started to squirm in my chair. I couldn't believe that she was still thinking about me in that way, especially after what she did last night because of me.

She turned her head towards me, eyes still closed. I watched as her lips puckered slowly, admiring the curvature of them. I silently wondered if they felt as soft as they looked.

"Dexter, what are you doing?"

Harry.

"Nothing, Harry. Now's not exactly a good time." I replied.

"I don't like the way you've been looking at Debra, son. Haven't you done enough damage?"

Harry stood firmly in front of me, restricting my view of Deb. His arms were crossed over his chest, and a disapproving scowl rested across his face.

"What are you insinuating? She's my…" For some reason, I hesitated.

"Sister. She's your sister, and I don't want to see you looking at her in that way again. All I want is to protect her, and you should want the same." Harry stated.

"All _I_ want to do is protect her. Maybe if you'd been there for her the situation would be different, but it's too late now, isn't it? I'm all she has left." I hissed back at him.

My words had clearly upset Harry, and fortunately, he left. I turned my attention back to Deb. Thankfully, she was still asleep. Her lips were pressed together, and they formed a slight smirk. I smirked back, even though I knew she wouldn't see.

It was nice, knowing that I had made her happy for once.

* * *

After that moment of reflection, I start my car and back out of the parking lot. I'm still not sure if I want to see my sister yet. Her dream from earlier today, no, my _reaction _to it, made me uncomfortable to say the least.

Deb is a beautiful woman. She always has been, and I've always noticed; but we were raised together. Her feelings for me are wrong. The way I looked at her today was wrong…right? Then again, I'm not exactly the go-to person for a lesson on morals.

Throughout my life, Deb has always been there for me. Even more so since she found out about the real me, but nothing good could ever come from us being together in that way. So why had I even thought about it?

I slam my fist on the steering wheel, earning a few judgmental glances from the other drivers yielding beside me at the red light.

I take a few deep breaths; _in, out, in, out_, hoping to calm myself down. I don't function well when I'm stressed. How can the mere thought of Deb have such an effect on me? As I wait for the red light to change to green, I ponder whether I should make a left or right turn.

A left turn will take me home, to my son. The son I've dedicated my life to protecting. The son I haven't been spending nearly enough time with lately. The son I love more than I ever thought was possible for someone like me.

A right turn will take me to the hospital, to my sister. The sister who has loved me unconditionally for our entire lives. The sister that I am constantly hurting. The sister that would be better off without me.

The light turns green and I hit my turn signal, content with my decision. I know Deb will understand. Maybe she'll even thank me later.


	4. Chapter 4

"…And how does that make you feel?"

"Come again?" I snap. I've been getting the third degree from the hospital-appointed psychiatrist for twenty minutes now, and I can't say that I've been enjoying it. The last time I saw a therapist I found myself digging into feelings that would be better off still buried, and there's no way in hell that I'm ready to make any more Dexter-related confessions any time soon.

"You mentioned that sometimes it feels like your world is going to come crashing down. How have you been dealing with that?" The older woman asks. Her bright blue eyes stare into mine, attempting to wrestle me into submission. What is it about these fucking doctors that makes them think that I _want_ to spill my guts anyway?

I decide not to give in to the doctor's interrogation tactics. Nope, she isn't getting anything out of me. Instead, I hold up my bandaged wrist and wave it in her direction.

"Well, clearly there are better ways I could've been dealing with it." I answer.

The psychiatrist smirks and then scribbles something down on her notepad.

"Okay, Debra. It is my opinion that you have some deep-seeded issues that extend into your personal life. You appear to be a very dramatic person by nature, and you magnify every situation you find yourself in to near catastrophic levels. I believe that you should attend therapy regularly, but I don't think you're a danger to yourself. You had one moment of weakness, but I don't think suicide watch is a necessity for you at this point. I'll be signing off on your release from the hospital."

"Really?" I ask, wide-eyed. I'm relieved to be leaving this shit hole early, but I'd be lying if I said the woman's words didn't sting a little. Me? _Dramatic?_ Please. This lady doesn't even know the first thing about me or what I have to deal with.

"There's a set of clothes in the closet that you can change into. Should I tell the staff to call anyone for you?"

"Yeah, my brother. He's my emergency contact." I reply.

When the psychiatrist leaves, I open the closet door and pull out the plain white t-shirt and gray sweat pants that were left for me. They're a bit over-sized. but it's not like i'm going to complain.

As I start to change, I think about Dexter. He told me yesterday that he would be back soon, but that was almost twenty-four hours ago. To be honest, I'm worried about him. I know I shouldn't be, but he told me that he would come back, and I believed him. Did he do something stupid and get himself killed? What other explanation could there be for him to just ignore me like this? No visit, no phone call, nothing.

But twenty-four hours isn't _that_ long, right? Maybe I've gotten too attached to Dexter over the years. Maybe our relationship is too codependent. My old therapist used to throw that word around a lot.

The judgmental nurse who patched up my wrist on New Year's enters the room a few minutes later.

"Hello," she begins. "We called your brother but he says that he's unable to come and get you right now. He called you a cab, it should be here any minute."

"Asshole." I mumble, hoping the nurse won't hear me.

"What was that?" She asks. Oops.

"Nothing. I mean, uh, thanks. I guess I'll go wait outside now."

The taxi arrives fifteen minutes later. At first, when the drivers asks me "where to?" I'm unsure of what to tell him. I don't want to go home, but I don't want to go to Dexter's either. For some reason, the fucker clearly doesn't want to see me, and I'm not sure that showing up at his house right now would help anything. It's 6:45, and I know that he's probably eating dinner with Harrison.

I finally make up my mind and give the driver the address of one of my favorite bars not too far from here. Drinking has never really helped me solve any problems, but hey, how much damage can a beer or two do?

* * *

I don't have any money with me, but somehow I'm on my fifth drink. I told myself to accept nothing but beer, but of course I didn't keep that promise. I don't like the idea of trying to find a ride home after a night of hard drinking, but after my second beer, a creepy looking guy sitting next to me buys me a vodka (and another…and another…) and I'm not in the business of turning down free drinks.

This guy may not be a fairytale Prince Charming, but he is pretty confident, I'll give him that. He keeps leaning closer and closer to me, but I don't reciprocate. If he thinks he's going to get lucky, he's in for a disappointing evening.

"So what's your name, sexy?" The creep asks, rubbing my leg.

I shoot him my best death glare, but he fires back with a hideous, shit-eating grin. Great. This guy's picture is probably filed in the dictionary, right next to 'oblivious'.

"My name's Lisa." I lie. Sure, I could've just given him my real name, but the idea of being someone else for a while appeals to me. I would love to get out of my own head for even just a few minutes.

"Lisa? Mmm, that's hot. Ay, bartender. How about another vodka on the rocks for my girl Lisa?"

The bartender places a new drink in front of me and I down it embarrassingly fast before asking for another.

"You never told me your name, baby." I coo.

Deb would never be interested in this guy, but _Lisa_? Maybe Lisa likes the attention.

"Marvin, but you can call me big Marv, sugar." He replies, inching his hand further up my thigh.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice a woman with dark brown hair sitting alone at a nearby table. She's wearing a familiar looking blouse that is accessorized with gaudy jewelry.

"Maria…?" I whisper, turning my entire body to face her.

The woman smiles at me. It's a knowing smile, a challenging one. One that says "you're not going to get away with this Deb", and I know that she's right.

I fiercely rub my eyes, hoping that it'll make her go away. This _can't_ be happening. Maria is dead. I know she is, I killed her myself.

Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe LaGuerta will haunt me now, like some modern version of the ghost of Christmas past showing me what my life will be like if I don't confess to my sins.

I blink rapidly and what I thought was Maria turns into a girl who looks almost nothing like her. I turn away from her quickly so I won't creep her out any more than I already have.

"Is something wrong? Come on, let big Marv know what's on your mind." Marvin comments, bringing me out of my daze.

I shake my head no and giggle uneasily. Marvin continues to flirt with me, and I decide to humor him and flirt back. When I hear myself starting to slur my words, I decide it's time to go home.

Marvin continues moving his hand further up my thigh until he reaches my crotch and starts to rub. I fidget, hoping that he'll catch on to the fact that I'm not interested. Of course, he does not. I swat his hand away and he looks up at me, a pained expression on his face.

"S-sorry." I begin. "Can I, uh, can I use your phone?"

"Yeah, sure." Marvin says, staring at my chest.

I look down and realize that I'm not wearing a bra. Shit.

Marvin hands me his phone and I stand up and make my way to the bathroom. I trip over my feet a few times and when I finally reach my destination, I fall to the floor. The bathroom is empty so I decide to just stay there. Getting up seems like too difficult a task right now. Ha, so much for not getting drunk.

I dial Dexter's number, silently hoping that he'll answer. He finally does, on the second to last ring.

"Dex, can you pick me up?" I whisper.

"Deb? Where are you? I thought I sent a cab a few hours ago?" He asks.

"Yeah, I'm at a bar and I'm kinda shit-faced. I'd just walk home but there's this creepy guy here and I think he wants to fuck me." I laugh.

"Jesus Deb, you were supposed to go straight home. What bar? I'll come get you."

I tell Dexter the name of the bar and before he hangs up, he tells me that he'll be here soon. I hope he's telling the truth this time.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey everyone! Thanks for all of the lovely reviews, I really appreciate it! I've been writing a lot lately, so the next update probably won't be too far behind this one. Chapters 5 and 6 kind of just progressed naturally, and i'm kind of on the fence about my pacing of the events in these two chapters, so I'm excited to see what you guys have to say. Okay, i'll shut up now :)

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In retrospect, calling Deb a cab and expecting her to go straight home without incident wasn't my best idea, but I had no idea how to deal with…us. I still don't. I once thought of myself as emotionless, but now it's like my feelings are consuming me.

The way I feel about Deb now is something new entirely. I've always believed that if I could have feelings for anyone I'd have them for Deb, but I never expected to develop feelings like _this_. I'm not even sure when it happened. It just…did. Maybe these feelings have always been there, buried somewhere deep under the surface.

This time last week, I believed that my feelings for Hannah were genuine. I thought that she was the only person who could ever love me. _Al__l_ of me. Going away with Hannah and Harrison seemed like the perfect solution to all of my problems. I'd be able to give Harrison a chance at a good life, one where his father isn't constantly looking over his shoulder; and I could finally stop putting Deb through so much pain. But now, just days later, I realize how stupid I was. A life without Deb could never be my reality. I need her.

What I felt for Hannah was lust and nothing more. She made me feel accepted in ways I never had before, because she didn't shy away from the darkness; she accepted it. Maybe she even encouraged it. But _Deb_? Deb believes in me, even after my dark passenger was exposed. She sees past the darkness. She even believes there's light.

I love Deb. I genuinely love her. My love for her might actually be the best thing about me. In a way, it proves that I can be good; that maybe I have a chance at slaying the beast. Something about my love for her has changed though, and I'm not so sure that I like change. I thought that distancing myself from Deb would bring a sense of normalcy back to our relationship, but we can never seem to be away from each other for too long. I can't tell if that's a good or bad thing.

I slowly start my car and pull out of the parking lot. I'm a bit hesitant about leaving Harrison at home by himself, but he's fast asleep and the bar is only minutes away. I'll be back long before he wakes up and notices that I'm gone.

When I arrive at the bar, I quickly head inside and scan the room. There's no sign of Deb and I feel my muscles start to clench. Didn't she mention something about a guy? If some jerk decided to take advantage of her…

Just then, I see a man exit the restroom, guiding my clearly drunk sister to the bar.

"Deb!" I call out to her.

She turns to face me when she hears my voice, a grin forming across her lips.

"Dexterrrr!" She screeches, letting go of the man and attempting to walk towards me. Her plan backfires and she trips over a stool, landing face first onto the floor.

I rush to her and bend over to lift her up. I easily carry her in my arms and the man she was with earlier steps closer to me.

"Put her down dude, she's with me." He says.

"Relax Marv, he's cool." Deb replies, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Dex, put me down. I can walk."

I tighten the grip I have on my sister and Marv shoots me a dirty look.

"Well Marv, I'd say it's been a pleasure, but then I'd be lying." I state dryly.

Deb giggles as I carry her to my car and she doesn't stop until we get to my apartment. The walk up the stairs proves to be a very difficult one as my ever so defiant sister insists on walking on her own. She trips a few times, but I'm always there to catch her before she falls. When we finally enter my apartment, Deb dramatically plops down onto the couch and reaches for the remote. She attempts to turn on the TV, then suddenly decides against it and throws the remote onto the floor.

"Not too loud, Harrison's asleep." I warn.

"Come here and lay down with me." Deb coos as she shifts to make room for me to fit beside her.

I ignore her proposition and walk into the kitchen instead. I decide to make coffee, hoping that it'll help Deb sober up. I start the coffee machine and to my surprise, Deb is now a few feet away from me, leaning against the refrigerator. For a heavily intoxicated woman she sure is light on her feet.

"How are you feeling?" I ask. My eyes fall down to her chest. I try not to stare, but she's only wearing a thin white t-shirt and it makes her nipples painfully visible.

She catches on to the fact that I'm staring and moves closer, so that we now stand mere inches apart. She's so close that I could probably close the gap between us and find out if her lips really _are_ as soft as they look.

"Could you just be fuckin' honest with me for once?" Deb blurts out. Her voice is husky and her eyes are full of something that I can't quite decipher. I'm not sure that I like where this is going.

"I've been nothing but honest with you these past few months, Deb. I don't know what else you could possibly want from me."

"Do you love Hannah more than me?" She whispers.

"Deb, why the hell would you even ask me that? She tried to hurt you and I gave her up. I thought that spoke for itself. You know how I feel about you."

"You left me alone in a fucking psych ward. You told me you'd come back, but you didn't. You left me again. Like you…like you always do. You're mad at me." Deb responds, awkwardly running her fingers through her hair.

"Now isn't the time to talk about this Debra, you're drunk."

"So you _are_ mad at me?"

"Oh? How do you figure that?"

"Because, it seems like you only call me Debra when you're mad at me. Well you know what, Dexter? Fuck you."

Deb lurches forward and grabs me by my shirt collar.

"I fucking hate you."

I raise my eyebrow and smile at her mockingly. I know that she doesn't mean it. Deb's nostrils start to flare and the look in her eyes changes. I know that look; she's about to try to one-up me in whatever game it is we're playing. Before I can even register what's happening, Deb crushes her lips to mine.

The feeling of her lips on mine catches me off guard. This can't be what Deb really wants, can it? She's drunk and vulnerable and clearly still upset over what she had to do to LaGuerta. I've never known how to handle emotions, but Deb? Deb is normal. No, she's more than that; she's extraordinary. She feels more than anyone I've ever known. Maybe this is her way of processing her emotions? She'll take out her frustration on me tonight, and by tomorrow morning all will be forgotten. And don't I owe that to her after all of the damage I've done? No. Regardless of if that's true or not, I can't let this happen. Deb and I have gone further than we ever should have.

I gently place my hands on Deb's shoulders and push her away from me. She looks hurt and slowly backs away to lean against the fridge again.

"I thought you loved me?" She asks.

"Of course I do." I whisper, rubbing my thumb against my bottom lip. It tingles as a result of Deb's contact. No matter how hesitant I may be to admit it, the monster in me craves more.

"But you don't _want_ me?" She asks.

My eyes travel back down to her chest. Her nipples are harder now, more visible through the thin material of her t-shirt.

I say nothing in response. Instead, I slowly walk over to her and pin her against the refrigerator. Without thinking, I place my hand on her neck and slowly drag it downwards. My thumb traces her collarbone and she gasps. The surprised look on her face turns into a confident grin as I continue to move my hand even lower until it reaches her breast. I bite my bottom lip as I massage her nipple. She moans and I know that I should stop before this goes too far, but I feel my self control continuing to slip away. The only thought in my mind right now is that she's wearing too many clothes.

"Take off your shirt." I command hoarsely.

Deb obliges and I stand back and take her in. She's even more perfect than I could have imagined…which is exactly why I finally snap out of whatever trance I'm in and stop myself. I can't ruin her again.

"Your turn." Deb beckons me seductively. Clearly she hasn't caught on to the change in my demeanor yet.

"I'm sorry," I say as I walk back over to the coffee machine. "I shouldn't have done that. You should put your shirt back on, Deb."

Deb ignores my suggestion and confidently strides towards me. I wonder if she would be as open if she hadn't been drinking. She reaches down and picks up my idle left hand, then places it on her breast.

"You can't keep doing this, you know," she says in a hushed tone. "You can't just play with me like some fucking doll. You can't keep using me until you get bored, Dexter."

I want to believe that this is just a nonsensical drunken rant, but there is a lot of truth to what she's saying. I'm constantly using her to keep myself afloat. I need her a lot more than I let on.

"You could never bore me, Deb. I need you. I need you more than you'll ever know." I finally answer.

She smiles warmly and I lean in closer. She meets me halfway and our lips connect again. The kiss is soft at first, and then becomes more passionate. I'm not sure who deepened it, and I don't care.

I lead her to my bedroom and gently push her down onto the bed. I hesitate, then lift my shirt over my head and toss it across the room. I crawl on top of her and slowly trail kisses on her lips, across her cheeks, and down her neck.

Deb pulls away from me suddenly, then mumbles "we-we don't have to…do it…if you don't want to. I mean, I don't wanna be a cock tease but…aaah, fuck."

I remain hovered over her, unsure of what to do next. Honestly, I _do_ want to be with her tonight. I'd probably feel nothing but regret in the morning if we went through with this, but right now I'm feeling reckless and all I can think about is satisfying my urges.

I gently lower myself on top of her and kiss her again, slowly and intimately this time, in an attempt to be reassuring. I feel a strange flutter in my chest. Is it those butterflies that everyone keeps talking about?

I part my lips to deepen the kiss and Deb sighs into my mouth.

"What?" I question, looking into her eyes.

"Nothing. It's just…that coffee smells reallyyyy fucking good." She answers groggily.

I chuckle and let myself fall on top of her, then quickly roll over to rest beside her. She lays her palm down on my chest and closes her eyes. The pattern of her breathing matches mine as she drifts off to sleep, and I don't dare move. I wouldn't trade this for anything.


	6. Chapter 6

Bright sunlight seeping through the curtains wakes me from the deepest sleep I've had in months. My eyes flutter open slowly and I'm shocked when I see Dexter sleeping peacefully beside me.

A light chill runs through the air and I shiver when I realize that the top half of my body is exposed. I turn my focus back to Dexter and notice that he isn't wearing a shirt either.

"Fuck," I whisper as I try to piece together why the hell i'm _here_. "Oh, FUCK!"

I leap out of the bed and retreat against the wall. Dexter moans sleepily and lifts his head slowly and turns to look in my direction. When he notices me, he flashes that cheesy 'I just had sex' grin that I've seen from just about every guy I've ever been with, then places his hand on the spot I had been laying in.

"What's wrong, Deb?" He asks. His eyes are still half closed as he squints to keep the light out of them, and I think it's adorable. Not that I'd ever say that out loud, though.

"What's wrong!?" I shriek. "Oh, nothing. I just woke up half naked in my equally half naked brother's bed. You know, the usual."

I cross my arms over my chest, feeling somewhat self-conscious. Dexter is acting a little too normal for my tastes, given the current circumstances. You would think that waking up beside me was an everyday thing for him.

"So…you don't remember anything at all?" He asks. His smile fades as he sits upright on the bed and turns to face me better.

Glimpses of last night's encounter replay in my mind. The details are a little foggy, and I don't remember much after pathetically trying to seduce Dexter into lying down with me on the couch.

"Um, I remember most of it I guess." I lie, feeling myself start to blush. Yeah, I think it's time to hightail it the fuck out of here. "I should probably go. Dammit, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Dexter replies.

He gets out of bed and begins to walk toward me, clad only in a pair of plaid boxer shorts. I try not to stare when I notice how hard he is. It's probably just morning wood. There's no way that _that_ could possibly have anything to do with _me_.

"We…we didn't have sex or anything, did we!?" I ask, following up the question with an uneasy laugh.

Dexter continues to glide across the bedroom floor until he's standing directly in front of me. I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach and I know that if he decides to come any closer, I can't trust myself to remain calm. Slowly, he reaches out and moves my arms away from my chest, exposing me to him once again. My eyes dart around the room in an attempt to escape making eye contact with him. Subconsciously, they settle back down to his boxers. I try not to stare, but to be honest, it's hard not to.

"You don't have to hide from me, Deb. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Could you just answer the question please?" I mumble.

"No, we didn't have sex last night, Deb." He finally answers.

I exhale, relieved. I mean, it's not like I don't want to sleep with Dexter, I really, really do; but I know that he doesn't feel the same way about me, and I would hate it if he played along just because I was drunk and practically begging for him.

I squeeze myself from between Dexter and the wall and start towards his dresser, hoping that I'll be able to find a shirt to throw on before the situation can possibly get even more awkward. I'm not even halfway there when I feel Dexter grab me from behind and pull me back into his grasp. He holds me in a backwards hug with his arms resting just below my chest.

"Uhhh, Dex. What the hell are you doing?" I ask.

He releases me and when I turn to face him, he forcefully crushes his lips against mine. This is all happening so fast, and I'm not sure how to respond. I'm pretty sure I had a dream like this once…maybe that's what this is. I'm probably still asleep, lying next to that creepy guy I met at the bar last night. I blink rapidly, thinking that maybe I'll finally bring myself back to reality. I grab onto Dexter's broad shoulders and trail one hand down his back. Nope, this feels real as shit to me.

Dexter inches forward, causing me to back up against the wall. He parts his lips, attempting to put his tongue in my mouth. I reflexively raise my hand and drag my nails across his cheek, definitely drawing some blood in the process.

"Dexter, get the fuck off of me! Jesus Christ!"

He quickly backs away from me, and then says in a seductive voice "Harrison is going to wake up soon. I thought you'd want to…"

"W-what is wrong with you?" I stammer.

"Nothing's wrong," he begins. "It's just…last night really got me thinking, and I understand now."

I roll my eyes at him. "So what are you saying? That you're in love with me all of a sudden?" I feel the threat of tears forming. Not because of any of the sentimental bullshit that Dexter is trying to get me to believe, but because I know what game it is he's playing. Every time he notices that I'm drifting away, he does whatever it takes to keep me tethered to him like some loyal lapdog. He knows that I'll never leave him, because I _can't_, because I love him too much. What better way is there for him to ensure that my guilt doesn't cause me to take us both down than to prey on that love?

First and foremost, Dexter has always been about self preservation. It doesn't surprise me that he'd use my own feelings against me. My love for him is one of the worst things about me. It makes me pathetic. It makes me weak.

I look across the room and spot one of Dexter's shirts on the floor and I push past him and retrieve it, relieved that I can finally cover myself and stop at least _some_ of the awkwardness of this situation.

"I should go. I think I'm going to head back into work today."

"Deb, please just hear me out." Dexter pleads.

"No! Just leave me alone, Dexter. I'm done being trapped under your fucking spell. Stop manipulating me for once." I hear my voice break and I know that there's no way that I'll be able to stop the tears from flowing now. "I don't want some pity fuck, okay? You made it perfectly goddamn clear that you didn't want me like that, and I was finally starting to accept it. Stop doing this to me, I can't take it."

"I was wrong before. I don't know why I didn't see it, but it makes perfect sense. I don't believe in a lot of things, but I do believe in us. You're what's been keeping me sane, Deb. I need you." Dexter says. He walks over to me, and once again, we're standing dangerously close. "You make me feel like maybe I'm not such a monster after all."

"Cut the romance novel dialogue, Dex. I'm not falling for it."

"Do you even understand what it took for me to say that, Deb!?" He asks, raising his voice. "Last night I went back and forth in my mind trying to make sense of the way I feel about you. About why I can't stand to be away from you for too long. About what made me so willing to let you shoot _me_ in that trailer. About why I get this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever you're around. I never wanted to feel like this, but I do. I didn't think it was possible, but it is. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm in love with you."

I wipe the tears from my eyes and hesitate before placing my palm against his chest.

"Do you really mean that? Are you sure?" I whisper. I know that I should walk away now and finally get a backbone, but I need to be sure that this isn't all some cruel joke.

"I need you, Deb. That's the only thing I'm sure of."

I wrap my arms around his neck and my muscles relax when he circles his arms around my lower back. As corny as it may sound, it's like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. For the first time in days, I feel calm. I know that it's too good to be true, that this moment won't last for long, but I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder, content with just being this close to him.

"About fucking time." I say, pulling away from our embrace so I can look into Dexter's eyes.

"Should I expect another claw to the face if I try to kiss you again?" He jokingly asks.

"I don't know, do you think it's worth the risk?" I answer in my best flirty voice.

"Only one way to find out I guess."

Dexter leans in incredibly slowly and when his lips lightly brush against mine, I lose control and grab his face in my hands, then roughly smash my lips against his. Fuck it, I've been waiting too long for this to take things slow. We've wasted enough time.

I gently bite his bottom lip, and the look he gives me in return lets me know that he likes it. I bite it again, harder this time, and then push my hands against his chest, signaling to him to back up so we can lay on the bed. He takes the hint and walks backwards until he falls onto the bed and I climb on top of him.

I deepen the kiss and reposition myself to straddle him. Just when things seem like they're about to get more interesting, I hear the patter of toddler-sized feet against the floor.

"Motherfuck." I mumble as I steady myself and get out of the bed. Thank God Harrison can't quite seem to open the door on his own. It would've been pretty awkward explaining to him what Auntie Deb was doing on top of his daddy.

"Go get dressed; I'll make him some breakfast." I add.

I open the door and sure enough, there's Harrison, rubbing his eyes tiredly. When he notices me he flings his arms around my legs and screams "Aunt Deb!"

I scoop him up in my arms and walk over to the kitchen.

"How about pancakes for breakfast? Does that sound good?" I ask as I place him down to sit at the counter.

"Yum!" Harrison answers, clapping his hands.

Dexter emerges from his bedroom a few minutes later wearing his usual button down shirt and khaki pants ensemble.

"Daddy!" Harrison exclaims. "Can Aunt Deb stay forever? I really missed her."

"Well, I don't know about forever buddy, but she's here now, and that's all that matters." Dexter replies.

He places his hand over mine and it makes me believe that maybe my world won't come crashing down after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey everyone, I hope you're doing well! As always, thanks for the feedback. I really really _really_ appreciate it, you have no idea how happy it makes me to read your reactions. And even to the few of you who choose not to leave reviews *cough cough* lol, I really do appreciate that you're bothering to read and follow my story at all!

I have a few more comments, but i'll save those for the end of chapter 8 because I don't want to say anything spoiler-y. Hope you enjoy!

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It's only been a few hours since I last saw Deb, but I've already found myself starting to miss her. This morning, I managed to convince her to call out sick from work for one last day; but sitting in my lab doing tedious blood work has made me regret that decision. I know that no matter how brave a face Deb thinks she'll be able to put on for everyone at Miami Metro, she isn't ready to come back and deal with LaGuerta's absence. Still, I selfishly wish she were here, peeking into my lab to flash me a quick smile through the blinds like she used to. More than anything, I miss the closeness that we shared a few hours ago. I crave it.

I'm running purely on coffee and a couple hours of sleep because most of last night was spent lying awake and working out my feelings for Deb. While I watched her sleep, I finally came to terms with feelings that I should have realized existed long ago, and I feel…liberated. I once thought that crossing that line with Deb would ruin her; but now we're closer than I ever thought possible, and I'm truly grateful.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I reach down to grab it shamelessly fast, anticipating the soothing sound of Deb's voice on the other line. Much to my disappointment, her picture doesn't flash onto the screen. The number looks vaguely familiar, but I can't place it.

"Hello?" I answer, probably coming off more hostile than necessary.

"Who is this?" A man's voice asks.

"Who is this? You did call _me_, you know."

"I was hoping to talk to Lisa…wait; you're that guy from last night, aren't you? Not cool, man." Marv replies.

"Don't ever call this number again." I say coldly before ending the call.

Frustrated at the fact that I have nothing to do besides wait around for Deb to call, I decide to enter Marv's phone number into the police database and see what I can find out about the guy. He rubbed me the wrong way last night, and something in my lizard brain is telling me that he could be a good candidate for my table.

My dark passenger isn't aching for a kill right now, but taking this guy out would be gratifying to say the least. I didn't like the way he was eyeing Deb at the bar, and the fact that he had the gall to call and ask about 'Lisa' as if he actually has a shot with her irks me. Deb is _mine_ and no one else's.

I'm pleased when I actually find a record of Marv in the police database. His full name is Marvin Lee Sturgis, and he has five previous arrests. Four of them are for rape, though he was only convicted in one case and sentenced to a measly two months in prison. The final charge is what really catches my eye, however. Three years ago, Marvin was arrested for the murder of a prostitute. Of course, he managed to walk in that case too, because the evidence against him was largely circumstantial. This menace to society being free to roam the streets doesn't reflect well on Miami's finest, but that's okay with me. I definitely see sheets of plastic in his future.

My lab door suddenly swings open, and I rush to close the webpage in case my unexpected visitor gets curious about what I was looking at. I relax when Angel enters the room and lightly closes the door behind him. He still isn't looking like himself. If I were a normal person in his situation, I don't think I'd bother coming into work at all, but Angel Batista has always been a dedicated man. It's one of the qualities I admire most about him. He's still convinced that we haven't done all we can to find justice for Maria, and although his refusal to accept the scene I set isn't good for Deb and I, I actually respect the fact that he won't give up on her. If I were in the same position as he is in now, there's no doubt in my mind that I would do whatever it took to avenge Deb; though I'm not sure that Angel will be dishing out my specific brand of conflict resolution any time soon.

"Hey Dex," he begins. "I just wanted to give you the information for Maria's funeral. It's scheduled for this Friday."

He hands me two funeral programs, and I assume the second one is for Deb. On the front of the pamphlet is a large photo of Maria, and 'Maria LaGuerta, a fallen hero' is printed underneath in bold. I remember the day that the picture was taken; it was during the ceremony where she was unexpectedly promoted to captain a few months ago. She's wearing her decorated police uniform, and her deep brown eyes are staring back into mine. I decide against giving the extra program to Deb. There's no doubt in my mind that being forced to look into Maria's eyes again will bring her right back to that night, and there's no way that I'm going to risk her falling back down the rabbit hole. I almost lost her once, and I can't go through that again.

"Thanks Angel, Deb and I will definitely be there. We wouldn't miss it."

I reach out and place my hand on Angel's shoulder, hoping that he'll appreciate the supportive gesture.

"Thanks Dex. I know she wasn't exactly fair to you in her last days, but I know that your forgiveness would mean a lot to her if she was still here." He replies.

"There's no need for forgiveness Angel. She just got a little carried away with trying to clear Doakes' name. It's understandable. No one wanted to believe it. A lot of us still don't; but Maria was a friend, and I'll always remember her that way."

"I appreciate it Dexter. By the way, what happened to your face, bro?" He asks with hints of his former, happier self returning as he flashes a slight smirk.

I raise my hand to my cheek and rub the small cut Deb gave me this morning, grinning as I muse over what came after our confrontation.

"Oh, it's nothing. Harrison was just playing a little rough." I lie.

Angel simply nods, and then walks out the door.

I watch through the blinds as he hands programs out to every other solemn looking employee in the department, and a weird feeling comes over me. I think it might actually be regret.

* * *

I originally planned on going straight home to Deb and Harrison after work, but another call from Marv had put me on edge. This time, he left a voicemail practically begging for me to give him Lisa's number. He also mentioned that he would be back at the bar at 8:00 PM tonight in case she wanted to 'pick up where they left off', and I decided that now would be as good a time as any to get rid of him for good. It wouldn't be as neat as I usually like, and I would have to rush, but it would be worth it.

I change into the backup kill suit that I keep in my car and quickly make sure that I have enough M99 with me before heading to the bar. Halfway there, I realize that I haven't set up a kill room. It's risky, but I decide to set one up in an abandoned warehouse near my apartment. It isn't very secure, but I've used it before and it'll have to do.

As I'm arranging the plastic wrap around the room, my phone vibrates. I irritably snatch it out of my pocket, fully expecting to hear Marv's grating voice yet again. My heart races when I see Deb's picture on the screen.

"Hey Deb." I answer, doing my best to mask the excitement in my voice.

"Hey yourself." Deb replies.

It sounds like she's smiling, which makes me smile, too.

"Are you working late? I thought maybe we could toss back a few beers and watch a crappy movie together." She suggests.

I hesitate, unsure of what to tell her. It's getting harder and harder for me to lie to her, but I decide that she doesn't need to know what I'm up to. Surely she wouldn't think that killing Marv is a great idea, no matter how big of a creep he is.

"I don't know Deb…you see where alcohol got you last night. You sure you want to go down that road again?" I ask flirtatiously.

"Maybe, maybe not. Get your ass over here and you'll find out." She responds.

"I just have to finish up some blood work first, and then I'm all yours."

"Okay, see you soon. I love you."

"I love you too." I answer.

I end the call and finish covering the rest of the area with plastic wrap, then drive the rest of the way to the bar.

I spot Marv sitting alone behind the counter, polishing off what looks like his third or fourth drink of the night. Perfect. No one will find me leading a drunken man to his car at all suspicious. The bar isn't the least bit crowded, probably because it's a Wednesday night, and that reassures me further. The fewer witnesses there are, the better.

I nonchalantly sit down next to Marv, but he doesn't notice me because he's too preoccupied with ogling at a bartender's exposed cleavage.

"Hey, Lisa told me to give you a message." I whisper.

Marv turns around, and there's a look of disgust on his face when he realizes who I am.

"_Fuck off._" I hiss, injecting him with the M99 before anyone even so much as bats an eyelash.

* * *

"You picked the wrong girl to proposition, Marv." I say tauntingly as the man regains consciousness.

He struggles to free himself to no avail, then stops fidgeting for a second to hurl a glob of spit in my direction.

"Classy." I add in a monotone voice.

"What the hell is wrong with you, dude? I'll leave that bitch alone, I swear. _I swear_!" Marv screams. His eyes look like they're going to bulge right out of their sockets, and I fight the urge to laugh.

"I'd love to stay and chat Marv, but I've got somewhere better to be. And quite frankly, you bore me."

I raise my knife into the air and plunge it into his chest rather unceremoniously. He doesn't even scream, and I instantly find myself wishing that I had treated him to a much more painful end.

I lift my hacksaw from the table beside me and start to dismember the body. I successfully separate one leg at the knee, and just when I'm about to turn my attention to the other leg, I hear a loud thud. I register that the noise must have come from a few feet away. It sounds like someone tripped over one of the many crates scattered throughout the warehouse.

"Holy shit." The person mumbles.

I see a shadow and take off in pursuit of the male figure. I stop chasing when the man escapes across the street and hops into a dark-colored vehicle, quickly peeling out of the parking lot and speeding down the street and out of my sight. I couldn't see a face because of the oversized hoodie he was wearing; but that voice…that voice sounded oddly familiar.

I head back into the warehouse and decide against finishing the dismemberment of Marv's body. I know that it's precarious to just leave him here, but it's even riskier to finish the job and dispose of him the way I usually do. Whoever it was that had been here was clearly following me, and he could very well still be close by, waiting for me to make my next move. Waiting to catch me in the act.

I remove the plastic wrap from the body so that when it's eventually found, nothing looks too out of the ordinary, minus the one severed leg of course. LaGuerta publicly accused me of being the Bay Harbor Butcher in front of the entire department. How would it look if mere days after her death, another victim fitting the profile is discovered minutes from my house? Suspicious, to say the least.

I don't need any more eyes on me. Eyes on me mean eyes on Deb, and I can't risk her going down for _me_.

As I gather up my tools and leave the warehouse, I convince myself that everything is going to be alright. I'm sure that my colleagues at Miami Metro will peg this as some random killing, or maybe even the work of a new serial killer in town. As for the mysterious intruder, I tell myself to just let it go. Unfortunately, that's easier said than done. This is one secret that I don't think I can keep from my sister.


	8. Chapter 8

It's practically 9:30 when I hear the jingle of Dexter's keys as he approaches the door, and I suddenly become very self conscious. Is the way I'm posed on the couch too much? Should I have worn something cuter? Does my hair look okay? Jesus Christ, it's like I'm sixteen again, stressing out over going on my first real date.

Dexter cautiously enters the living room and I greet him with a big smile, but it's left unreturned. There's a troubling look on his face, so I quickly get up off of the couch and pull him into a warm embrace.

"What's wrong, Dex?" I whisper into his ear. "You know you can talk to me."

He pulls away from the hug and goes to sit down on the couch, and I follow close behind him. I start to rub my hand and down his arm in order to comfort him, but I stop when I notice that he isn't wearing the geeky button down shirt and khakis that he had on this morning.

"Oh God Dexter, tell me you fucking didn't. You couldn't even wait _a week_?"

"Deb, I'm sorry. I just…he had to go." Dexter answers, dropping his head into his hands.

"He? Who is he?" I ask, even though I'm pretty sure that I already know the answer.

"Marv, that sleazy guy from the bar last night."

He barely tries to hide the contempt in his voice when he says Marv's name, letting me know that this one was personal.

"So what, just because the asshole felt me up, you had to go and kill him? What the hell is wrong with you, Dexter?"

I get up off of the couch and walk into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water, deciding that separating myself from him would be the best thing to do for now. I have a feeling that I may reach my boiling point tonight depending on what he says next, and it would probably be better if he wasn't within reach when I inevitably explode.

"He felt you up?" Dexter asks, lifting his head up to look in my direction.

I notice a tinge of jealousy in his voice and it makes me feel powerful. I pucker my lips slightly and then shrug my shoulders, purposely antagonizing him. I don't think I've ever seen him get jealous over me…it's kinda hot.

"Deb, I vetted him. He fits the code perfectly. Another worthless piece of trash is off the streets for good thanks to me. I'm not asking you to sing my praises or anything, but surely you shouldn't be angry with me…"

I roll my eyes and start to drink the glass of water so I can restrain myself. I don't want to argue with him, not now. Things have finally been looking up for us, but of course; leave it to Dexter to fuck shit up yet again. Can't we just have one good night together? Hell, one good _hour_?

"There's something else…I should probably tell you now, because you're going to find out eventually." Dexter begins.

I motion for him to go on, and he takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I didn't do things like I usually do…I may have left the body in a warehouse."

"What!?" I snap.

"I was interrupted."

I gulp down the water that I'd been swirling around in my mouth, and it feels like I'm about to be sick.

"Interrupted!? As in someone SAW YOU?"

"I don't think they saw much of anything, Deb. It was dark and my back was turned. I left the body there because following my usual method of disposal would've gotten me caught. If I was still being followed, I would've exposed myself; but I didn't. Everything is going to be fine. Really." Dexter says.

"If everything was going to be fine then you wouldn't have even told me about this in the first place. Stop fucking lying to me."

I slam the now empty glass on the counter and cross my arms over my chest.

"You need to stop. It's killing me, Dex." I say in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Deb, please. We've been through this a million times." Dexter says as he rises up off of the couch. "You can't just fix me, no matter how much we both wish you could. This is what I've always been. Sometimes I feel like I can get better, but then I step back into reality and I know that this is it. This is _me_."

His words echo in my mind and I'm instantly filled with rage. How can he do this? How can he just accept that this is what he is? What he'll always be? Foolishly, I thought that after I gave up everything for him, he would make an effort to stop once and for all; a _real_ effort this time. Like an idiot, I believed that I could be the one to fix him. I guess I was wrong.

I put up my hands, signaling to him that he better not come any closer. I feel my temperature rising and I know that the floodgates have been opened. So much for Dexter and I having a good night together.

"I've given up everything for you. EVERYTHING!" I scream. "Any goddamn fucking semblance of a normal life, I threw it away _for you_, because I love you. I love you so fucking much, and sometimes I really wish that I didn't. Things would be so much easier for me if Harry never brought you here."

Dexter winces, and I instantly regret letting those words escape from my lips. Of course I didn't mean that; I never could, but Dexter doesn't know that. Still, my anger doesn't subside. It's time to put it all on the table. I need him to know how I really feel.

"Deb…" Dexter says, inching closer to me.

"No! Stop it! You claim that you love me, so why can't you stop? I've given up everything for you, and all I ask is that you try to give up _this_. But you won't, because you'll never care about me the way I care about you. I guess I'm the only one expected to make sacrifices, huh? You don't know a fucking thing about sacrifice." I say, pointing an accusatory finger in his face.

Dexter's expression changes from mildly pained to visibly upset. There's a darkness in his eyes now, and I'm not sure what he's going to do next.

"I don't know anything about sacrifice? What about Hannah? Where is she right now, Deb? Please, enlighten me."

"Ah, so we're back to talking about that venomous bitch? What, do you want me to congratulate you for doing the right thing for once in your life? Hannah is no great loss, Dexter. She would've just killed you eventually and we both know it. Why don't you go pay her a visit and beg her to take you back? See if I fucking care. Maybe you could even make arrangements for a conjugal visit, I bet she'd loooove that!" I yell, turning away from him. I don't want to risk him seeing my face, just in case he can tell that actually, I _do_ fucking care.

"Screw you, Debra," Dexter begins.

He comes toward me and traps me against the counter.

"You could never even fathom what I've given up for you. Forget Hannah, this isn't about her. It never was. Remember my brother and his suicide?" He asks, putting the word suicide in air quotes. "You don't know how badly I wanted to give in. To finally unleash the monster that's been kept locked away for so long, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't let him have you, so I did what I had to do. Don't you _dare_ talk to me about sacrifice."

"You…?" is all I manage to choke out in response.

Dexter backs away from me and shakes his head yes. The darkness is still in his eyes, but there's something more now. _Hunger_.

I open the first few buttons on my denim top, exposing a slight hint of cleavage. Dexter catches on immediately, briskly stepping back in front of me and undoing the last few buttons on my shirt.

"Harrison?" He asks.

"Is asleep," I answer as I take my shirt completely off and toss it onto the floor. "Fuck me, Dexter."

I reach down to unzip his pants, biting down on my bottom lip when I feel him hard against my hand. Before I can finish what I started, he pries my hand away and spins me around.

"Take off your pants and bend over." He commands.

His voice is deeper than usual, and it turns me on even more. I rush to remove my pants and grip the counter as I bend over and arch my back, anticipating his next move.

I hear the sound of his zipper opening the rest of the way and a few seconds later, he places both hands on my ass, squeezing tightly. My panties are still on, so he quickly pulls them down and leans in closer.

"What did you say you wanted me to do? I don't think I heard you right the first time." He says, his voice husky in my ear.

"Just fuck me already." I fire back, not in the mood to wait any longer. I already feel like I'm going to burst, so I close my eyes and wait for him to come through on my demand.

Dexter tightens his grip on me and I'm already sure that I'm going to be sore as hell when I wake up tomorrow morning. I moan when I feel him rub his length against me, teasing me. I feel myself starting to blush, embarrassed by how wet I already am.

He grunts as he slams into me, and I scream as a result of his unexpected ferocity.

"Ah, Fuuuuck." I yelp.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll stop. I didn't mean to hurt you." Dexter apologizes as he pulls out.

My eyes flutter back open and I reach behind me to grab onto his hand, still resting on top of my ass.

"N-no, don't stop."

Dexter takes his hands off of me so he can fully remove his pants, and seconds later, I feel him rubbing against me again. He slides in slowly at first, careful not to hurt me this time. As he finds his rhythm and starts to pick up speed, I feel him place his slightly calloused palms back where they belong.

He moans and it's like music to my ears. The sound of his flesh against mine grows louder as he strokes faster, and I tighten my grip on the edge of the counter so I can keep my balance.

"Deb…" He groans.

"Mmm…f-faster!" I shout.

He follows my instructions and starts to rapidly thrust in and out. His hips buck wildly against me as he thrusts and I meet him halfway, backing up onto him. His breaths become more labored and I soon feel myself starting to tighten around him.

I know that I'm veering closer to the edge and uncontrollably begin to cry out with pleasure. I can't believe that Dexter has this affect on me. I've always been loud, but I've also always been able to keep things under my control, limiting myself to screaming only when I know that no one is around to hear me. Now, though? It's hard for me to even lower my voice in the slightest. I know that I should keep it down so I won't wake Harrison, but all of my self control flew out the window the second Dexter put his hands on me.

Suddenly, he takes one hand off of my rear and places it over my mouth to muffle the screams, still pounding fiercely into me.

"Deb, not…ahh! Not too loud." He warns, contradicting himself as he screams out louder.

My softened moans fill the air and mix with the sound of Dexter's, creating a pleasant harmony.

"Fuck!" He yells.

Hearing him curse makes me smile into his palm. He doesn't do it often, so when he does, it drives me crazy.

"Deb, I think I'm going to…" He begins, taking his hand off of my mouth.

"Come on Dex, give it to me." I interrupt.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Stop being annoyingly considerate and fucking give it to me!" I shout. "Aaah..._shit_!"

He slams into me harder, loudly screaming my name as he releases into me. I'm not far behind, yelling an impassioned "D-Dexter!" as I come.

I drop my head down onto the counter breathlessly as he pulls out. After I feel like I've gotten my breathing relatively under control, I turn around to face Dexter and he draws me into a tender kiss.

I break the kiss so I can catch my breath, staring into his eyes as I continue panting. Looking back at me, I see the warmth and understanding that I've desired from him for as long as I can remember.

"I love you. I love you so fucking much." I say, grabbing his hand and intertwining my fingers with his.

I watch as his chest heaves up and down. His breathing is still heavy, but he adds a soft "I love you too."

"We'll always be together, right?" I ask as he leans in closer and grabs my other hand.

"Always." He answers, pressing his lips back to mine.

* * *

Okay, so i've never written a sex scene before and I was really nervous about writing this, but what can I say other than it obviously had to happen? Lol. I don't know if it was too explicit, or not explicit enough, but I gave this story an M rating so of course I had to give y'all a little something ;) I hope this chapter was a satisfying one, and that everything felt organic. I reread this chapter an embarrassing number of times before finally posting it, and i'm still a little nervous about how it turned out but overall i'd say i'm pretty happy with it.

Anyway, let me stop explaining myself lol. I'd love to know what you all thought! xo


	9. Chapter 9

Hi lovely people! I feel like I always more or less say the same thing whenever I leave a message at the beginning of a new update, so at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I just want to say thanks as always for your support, it's really encouraging :) I start my sophomore year of college in about two weeks, so i'm going to be a _lot_ busier; but I promise that i'm not going to start slacking with updates! They might start coming a little slower, but I've pretty much planned out the entire story from start to finish so it's just a matter of writing it all down lol.

The next one should come pretty soon though, because i'm just about finished with chapters 11 and 12 and i'm kind of excited about them. All I have to do is add some finishing touches and start editing them, so expect the next update sometime around the middle or end of next week.

Well, that's about it I guess! I hope you enjoy! xo

* * *

"Jesus, I can't remember the last time I had a hickey." Deb says as she stands in front of the mirror and buttons up her shirt. "I hope I don't get any questions today."

I stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my head on her shoulder.

"If the hickey doesn't lead to any questions, then I'm sure the way you're walking will." I whisper into her ear.

"I'm not walking funny!" She insists. "Okay, okay. Maybe I'm a little sore."

"Yeah…sorry about that. I don't really know what came over me last night." I reply as I pull away from her.

"You don't know what came over you the second time? Or was it the third?" She asks, raising her eyebrow at me playfully. "You apologize too much. There's no need for that, believe me."

I watch Deb as she carefully walks across my bedroom, trying not to laugh at her subtle limp. Truthfully, it feels good knowing that I was the one who did that to her.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" She asks, picking up a pillow from my bed and hurling it at me, barely missing my face.

"Nothing, it just kind of scares me sometimes how much I love you." I blurt out, surprised at the spontaneity of my statement.

"Aww, Dex! You're not getting soft on me, are you?" Deb teases.

"The opposite, actually." I respond.

A shocked expression forms on Deb's face as a result of my sudden boldness, and she saunters back over to me and pulls me into a warm embrace.

"Since when did you become such a fucking flirt?" She asks, placing a hand on my chest. "I always pegged you as more of the romantic type; flowers, chocolates, that sort of shit. You know, it _would_ be nice to be wined and dined…"

"Are you asking me out on a date, Debra Morgan?" I ask.

"Ew, fuck no." She replies, shoving me jokingly. "Hey, not that I don't love what we've been doing or anything, but have you stopped to think about how _weird_ it is?"

"I wouldn't call it weird, Deb. It's…unexpected, but no, it's not weird. To be honest, throughout my entire life, I've always felt the least weird when I was with you."

"I'm glad," Deb says, smiling from ear to ear. "But I'm still having trouble thinking about what to call…this."

"What? Should I tell everyone at work that I'm your boyfriend or something? I mean, I will if you really want me to." I say.

"Fuck you!" Deb groans.

"What? I mean, as far as my secrets go, this one is the least illegal."

Deb laughs, but I catch a hint of uneasiness in her voice. It's clear that she's not comfortable joking about my, err, hobby.

"Look Dex, I'm fine with whatever this is. I don't need you to confess your love for me to the entire fucking world, because this," she pauses to gesture to the space between us. "_This _is all that matters to me. You know how I feel about you, I know how you feel about me, and that's all I've ever wanted. Okay?"

"Okay." I reply, holding her hand in mine. "Come on, we should get Harrison to school before we end up late for work."

After quickly eating our breakfast, Deb, Harrison and I pile into my car. When we're almost to his school, Harrison seems to notice Deb's unusually cheerful demeanor.

"Aunt Deb, you seem different!" He says.

"It's because I'm happy, buddy!" Deb replies, turning to smile at Harrison in the backseat.

"I was scared before. You kept hurting yourself, but now you're all better!" My son adds.

"That's right, Harrison. I'm all better now, no need to worry about me."

Deb turns back around to face me and I take one hand off of the wheel and place it on her thigh. Momentarily, I take my eyes off of the road to look into her eyes, and I notice that the spark is back (for good I hope), but I know that she isn't 'all better'. She probably never will be, thanks to me; but I try not to focus on that. This is the happiest I've seen her in almost a year, and all that matters to me now is keeping her that way.

* * *

After dropping Harrison off at school, Deb and I head to the station.

"I'm scared, Dex." She says as we sit in the parking lot.

"Don't be, you have nothing to worry about." I reply, gently squeezing her thigh.

We walk hand in hand until we reach the front door and Deb quickly releases her grasp on my hand.

"Shit's still kinda weird." She says. "Sorry."

We make our way to the homicide department and Deb quickens her pace, probably hoping to make it to her office without being seen. She doesn't get her way, though. Masuka turns the corner and almost knocks her off her feet.

"LT, finally back on the job!" He exclaims after steadying himself. "I'm wondering though, why did you get days off while the rest of us were here busting our balls? You know New Year's is always a big time for homicides."

I place my hand on Deb's lower back, letting her know that I'm ready to step in whenever she needs me.

"It was only a couple of days, Vince. I didn't think you'd miss me so much." She replies.

Masuka's eyes travel down to Deb's neck, and a creepy smile spreads across his face.

"Oh, so you were out getting laiiid!" He teases. "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling a little rusty? I would've been more than happy to oil your machine, if you catch my drift."

"Give it a fucking rest, Vince." I snap, hoping that he catches the venom in my voice.

"Um, okay…see you later Morgans." Masuka replies. His tone is more serious now, and it sounds like I may have actually offended him. Good.

"Wow, Dexter." Deb says when Vince is out of earshot. Her voice is throaty, and she looks a little flustered.

"What? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I just love it when you swear. Looks like I'm rubbing off on you."

She winks at me before walking towards her office, still slightly limping. Before she can make it there, Quinn gets her attention and pulls her into a hug that lasts far too long for my liking. If it were up to me, she wouldn't even be hugging him at all.

Everything inside of me is urging me to rush over there and pull Deb away from him, but I remind myself that Deb is a big girl who can take care of herself. She doesn't need me suffocating her. Besides, I'm sure that no one, not even Joey Quinn, could come between us now.

I idly stand by and watch as they have a fairly innocent looking conversation until I remember that there was a conference scheduled for the forensics department today. I reluctantly take my eyes off of Deb and head to the conference room.

I take a seat next to Masuka, who greets me with his usual toothy grin. He can never seem to stay angry at anyone for too long. In some ways, he's kind of the polar opposite of me. It's like he can't function if he's not running his mouth.

The minutes tick by and the lecturer's voice is drowned out by Masuka cracking inappropriate jokes. Listening to his rambling is at least taking my mind off of Deb for the time being, which I greatly appreciate. These days, I can't even go ten minutes without thinking about her. It's a strange feeling, being in love with someone this deeply; one that I've never experienced before. Can Deb really be changing me for the better this time?

All of a sudden, my phone vibrates and I reach into my pocket to see who it is. My heart skips a beat when Deb's name pops onto the screen, and I'm intrigued when I see that I have a new picture message.

I click on the message and my mouth falls open at the photo that now takes up the entire screen. The picture is of Deb from the waist up, and she isn't wearing a shirt…or a bra. Her mouth is twisted into a teasing smirk, and the text underneath reads: _I miss you…_

I feel myself start to harden the longer I stare at the screen, and the only thing on my mind is that something needs to be done about this, _now_.

Masuka turns toward me, attempting to look at my phone. I close the message quickly and drop my hands into my lap.

"Woah, did I just see boobs?" He asks, keeping his voice down to a whisper.

Shit.

"Uh, I don't know what you're talking about, Vince. You must be imagining things." I lie, hoping that he'll let this go.

"Sure, Dex. Whatever you say." He mumbles. "But that was one nice set of sweater puppies."

I roll my eyes but don't reply, thankful that he at least hadn't seen Deb's face. Still, the problem in my pants isn't going away. I abruptly get out of my seat and leave the conference room. The seminar isn't over yet, but if anyone asks, I'll just tell them that I needed to relieve myself, which isn't exactly untrue.

I hurry to Deb's office and when I reach for the handle and turn it, the door doesn't budge.

"Deb, it's me. Open up." I say, careful to keep my voice down.

The door swings open and Deb flashes me that same teasing smirk from the picture. I enter her office and close the door behind me, double checking to make sure it's locked and that the blinds are completely shut.

"Why would you send me that?" I ask. "You know I was in a meeting, right? Masuka was inches away from me!"

"What can I say?" Deb coos. "I missed you."

Her hand travels down to my crotch and she glides her fingers over my zipper, toying with me.

"Go lean up against my desk." Deb instructs.

I do as she says and soon her hand is back on my zipper. She pulls it down, and then does the same with my pants.

"Deb, are you sure this is a good idea?" I ask. "I know the door is locked, but what if someone manages to walk in on us?"

Earlier this morning, I told her that I would be fine with people knowing the truth; but the rational part of me was relieved that she decided to keep things between us. There's really no need for more added complications in our lives, and someone walking in on this would be just that.

"Do you ever shut the fuck up…?" She mumbles, pulling down my boxers and exposing me to her fully. I'm hard and ready, contradicting the uneasiness I just expressed. There's no way to hide how much I want her now, no matter how inappropriate the setting might be.

Deb licks her lips, and then gets down on her knees to kneel in front of me.

"Oh god…" I say before she even so much as touches me.

"Yeah, yeah. Just watch it asshole, this is my favorite shirt."

She licks her palm before taking my cock into her hand. As she rubs up and down the shaft gently, she cranes her neck upward so she can look into my eyes and witness for herself the effect that she has on me.

I throw my head back, losing myself in the moment, when she abruptly stops mid-stroke and I pathetically whimper in protest.

"Look at me." She pleads.

I lean my head down, fixating my eyes on hers, and she takes me into her mouth, resting one hand on my hip. I place one hand over hers and grab onto her head with the other, guiding her; though it doesn't look at all like she needs my help.

She takes me deeper down her throat and I gasp at the ecstasy that threatens to overcome me. The sounds she's making do nothing to help me make this last, and I tighten the grip I have on her hair, tangling my fingers through it.

"Fuck, Deb!" I scream, knowing how much she likes it when I swear.

I feel her lips form a slight smile around me as she continues sucking. I buck my hips uncontrollably, forcing myself deeper into her mouth, and much sooner than I would like, I know that I'm about to reach my peak.

"Deb," I moan. "Deb, I'm gonna come."

She increases her speed, and I look down to watch her again. I had no clue how…skilled she was. Soon after, I release into her mouth. She stares into my eyes as she swallows, wiping the corners of her mouth and licking what's left off of her fingers.

"Wow…" I mutter, still trying to catch my breath.

Deb smiles at me sexily, then steps behind her desk to grab a water bottle from out of one of the drawers. She takes a swig, and then says: "you might want to put your pants on and get out. I'm sure someone noticed that you were gone by now."

I don't want to leave, but I know that she's right. I scoop my underwear and pants up from off of the floor and put them back on hesitantly. Then, I lean over the desk and bring Deb into a longing kiss. She pulls away from me, but I grab onto her wrist, careful not to touch her wound that's still in the process of healing.

"Come here."

"Dex, I'm serious. You have to go."

"Not yet," I say. "It's time to take care of you now."

Deb moves from behind the desk and I pick her up and sit her down on top of it. I work on the zipper of her tight-fitting dress pants, and then pull them off of her in one swift motion. She's wearing black lace panties that are barely there to begin with, but I take those off too, slowly dragging them off of her hips and down her legs. I kneel before her and stick one finger inside, and then another, reveling in how wet she is.

I make sure to take things slow so I can make this last for her, but she grows impatient and places her hand over mine, guiding me to the spot that's just right and forcing me to quicken my pace. She starts to tilt her hips up against my strokes, and I plunge my fingers deeper inside of her. She bites down hard on her bottom lip, attempting to quell her desire to cry out, but when she looks down at me, she finally gives in to her need. She starts to moan and I'm thankful that she isn't as loud as she was last night.

I remove my fingers and Deb shoots me an irritated look. I bring my fingers to my lips and look deep into her eyes as I place them inside my mouth and suck off the remnants of her. She rewards me with a seductive smirk and quickly reaches down for my hand, trying to get things going again. I shake my head no and take her hand off of mine, leaving her looking thoroughly upset.

"Oh shit," she says when I lean my head down to take in the full extent of her arousal. I put my tongue where my fingers had been, and she throws her head back, chanting a combination of my name and "mmm, yes!"

A sudden knock on the door stops me dead in my tracks.

"Deb, are you in there?" Angel asks in a concerned tone of voice.

I stand up as quietly as possible and toss Deb her bottoms, mouthing an apologetic sorry in her direction.

"Y-yeah Angel, what is it?" She asks as she slides her underwear up her hips, followed by her pants.

"Mind if I come in for a second?" He asks. "Is everything okay? You sound a little out of breath."

"Uh, I-I'm fine. Just…give me a minute, I'll come to you!"

She zips up her pants and turns to face me.

"Stay here and wait like five minutes before leaving, okay?" She whispers.

"Uh, Deb…" Angel interrupts.

Deb ignores him and I nod my head yes as I run my fingers through her hair, attempting to make her look more like a put together police lieutenant and less like she was just in here giving me a blowjob.

"Deb…?" Angel repeats. "Is…is Dexter in there with you?"

Crap.


	10. Chapter 10

Fuck.

"This cannot be happening." I mumble under my breath.

"Yeah Angel, I'm in here." Dexter replies unexpectedly.

"What the fuck?" I ask him in a voice that's half whisper, half scream.

I slam my fist against Dexter's chest and stare angrily into his eyes, trying to understand why on earth he just did that. This morning, I assumed that he'd suggested telling people about us just to appease me, and I _thought _I'd made it perfectly clear that I was fine with keeping this part of our relationship between us. There's no way that anyone but Dexter and I could ever understand the way we feel about each other, so why even go there? _Especially_ with Angel. He would probably think that it was disturbing. He'd never look at me the same way again, and I don't think I could stand losing his respect. I can barely look him in the eyes as it is, ever since New Year's…

"Deb and I were just reviewing some case files," Dexter adds, walking over to the door and letting Angel in. "She wanted me to double check the blood work I did on the Lopez case."

I exhale, relieved that I was just over-thinking things as usual. Dexter would never take off his mask and expose hidden parts of himself unless he absolutely had to. No matter what he might tell me when he's feeling oddly romantic, I know that he wants to keep this a secret as much as I do.

"I figured you'd be in here, bro." Angel begins. "If you find one Morgan, you find the other. Anyway, there's a crime scene not too far from here and we're going to need you both. By the way, Deb, it's great to have you back."

"Great to be back, Angel. Just give me the address and we'll head down there now."

Angel writes down the address and after he leaves my office, I turn to face Dexter.

"Let me guess…" I start.

"Yeah…" He answers. "I've got to hand it to the department, though. These days, they've been finding my trash a lot quicker than they used to. I wonder what made them decide to become competent detectives all of a sudden."

"Now's not the time for jokes, fuckface." I say angrily as I reach into one of my desk drawers and take out my favorite pair of sunglasses. "Come on, let's just hurry up and get this shit over with."

* * *

"Cause of death is a single stab wound to the chest. In my opinion, the person responsible definitely knew what they were doing." Dexter explains.

I roll my eyes, thankful that no one can see them from underneath my aviators.

I'll never get used to seeing Dexter like this. When he breaks down a murder, a murder that _he_ was responsible for, he always seems to have a smile on his face. Now, knowing what I know about him makes it seem almost…perverse.

Before I set foot in that church all those months ago, I thought that Dexter smiled while dissecting a crime scene because he was in his element. I thought that he had enjoyed the thrill of putting the pieces of the puzzle together; but now? It's like he's congratulating himself for a job well done. Like he's relishing in the fact that the naive detectives would never guess that the man they've been searching for has been right under their noses all this time, leading them further and further off of his scent.

It still pisses me off sometimes, because I could've stopped him. I still _can_, but of course, I won't. Dexter and I are in this together now. The thought of that scares me more often than not, but as sick as it sounds, I wouldn't have it any other way. I love him more than anything, and I've learned to make peace with this part of him. Still, that doesn't mean that everything is peachy fucking keen.

"What do you make of the severed leg?" Angel asks.

"Well, I'm only theorizing here, but maybe the severed leg is the killer's signature, or his calling card, even." Dexter suggests, as if he's made some huge breakthrough.

I know that I shouldn't be, but I'm surprised that he's able to come up with this bullshit off the top of his head like that. He makes deceiving people seem so effortless.

"Could be." Angel replies.

"Or maybe he was interrupted." Quinn suddenly interjects. Everyone turns to face the small corner of the warehouse where he stands. "I don't know…it was before I came to Miami Metro, but this seems kinda reminiscent of the Ice Truck Killer, don't you think?"

I feel an aching pain in the pit of my stomach at the mention of Rudy (…Brian), and the words spill out of my mouth before I even realize I'm saying them.

"The Ice Truck Killer has been dead for years, Quinn. Surely you can't be _this _big of a fucking idiot. What's next? You gonna tell me you saw John Lennon at the grocery store last week?"

An awkward silence fills the air as everyone tries their best not to acknowledge my rude outburst.

"Jesus Joey, I-I didn't mean that." I add, taking off my sunglasses to look into his eyes and hopefully show him how sorry I am.

"It's fine, Deb. I only meant that the way the body was placed was kind of familiar. Maybe it was a copycat or something. Someone who identifies with that psycho on a deeper level." Quinn replies.

"Yeah…yeah, maybe. Uh, give me a minute." I say, bolting out of the warehouse to get some much needed fresh air.

My heart is racing a mile a minute, so I reach into my pocket and pull out my nearly empty bottle of Xanax, quickly popping two pills with the hopes of calming myself down. I sit down on the sidewalk and drop my head into my hands, waiting for the anxiety to pass.

I don't know how Dexter does it. I can't just remain calm in situations like this. In this moment, I'm actually thankful that I was in that psych ward a few days ago. If I had to listen to everyone analyzing _my_ crime scene and profiling _me _while I just stood there and watched, I probably would've had a complete mental breakdown. I can't even fathom how I'm going to pull myself together for LaGuerta's funeral tomorrow. I'm sure that Dexter will be great at keeping up appearances, though. He always is.

As my breathing starts to even out, I feel a familiar hand on my shoulder. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Are you okay? How can I help?" Dexter asks.

"I'm fine; just leave me the fuck alone." I reply, putting my sunglasses back on and rising up off of the sidewalk.

"We need to talk." Dexter says, wrapping an arm around my waist.

I notice that he's shaking and I know that things are about to get even more fucking difficult. Great! Just what I needed, more stress.

"What could have possibly gone wrong now, Dexter?"

Dexter guides me to his car and once we're inside, he places his hand over mine. I harshly pull myself away from his grasp, far from being in the mood for his weak attempt at comforting me. If I've learned anything over the years, it's that it's better to rip the bandage off. No need to prolong the inevitable.

"Goddammit Dex, just spit it out!" I yell.

Dexter sighs, and then places his hand back on top of mine.

"It was Quinn."

"What was Quinn? What are you talking about?"

"The guy who walked in on me last night, it was Quinn. That speech he made in there about the killer being interrupted has me convinced. He disguised his voice a bit, probably so I wouldn't figure out it was him, but I knew he sounded familiar. I just couldn't place him...until now." Dexter explains.

I release a dry, humorless laugh. Of course it was Quinn. _Of course_. This just keeps getting better and better.

"How could you be such a fucking MORON?" I ask.

"Deb…"

Before he can say another word, I slam my fist against his face. I go to raise my fist a second time, ready to punch him again and make him feel as damaged as I do, but he promptly grabs onto my wrist and restrains me. I cry out as a result of the pain that comes shooting up my still-healing wound, and Dexter releases me when he realizes that he's hurting me.

"I'm sorry." He says.

"You always are, aren't you? But that never stops you from hurting me over and over again. And I just take it."

A sullen expression forms on Dexter's face, and it takes everything in me to refrain from apologizing to him. Fuck him if he thinks that he can blink those big hazel eyes at me and release a few crocodile tears to make everything all better.

"Well...what are you going to do about Quinn?" I ask, breaking the painful silence.

"I don't know, Deb. I mean…"

"Don't say it. Don't you dare. You better not even fucking _think_ it." I growl.

"I'm not going to hurt him, not if I don't have to. I couldn't do that to you." Dexter says, tenderly touching my chin and turning my face towards him. "But you know I can't just do nothing, either."

I slowly shake my head yes, because I know he's right. Sitting around doing nothing will just make things worse, but so would hurting Joey. We've had our ups and downs, but I still care about him, and it scares me to think about how this could end. If Dex had to choose between protecting me or leaving Joey alone at the risk of him exposing us, there would be no hesitation. He'll always choose me. Hell, he chose me over his own _brother_. There's no doubt in my mind now that, with the exception of his son, I'll always be Dexter's number one priority.

"There has to be some other way." I add.

Dexter takes his hand off of my chin and places it on my thigh.

"Maybe there is," he begins. "Like I said last night, I don't think he saw much of anything. That proclamation in there was for show and nothing more. He wants me to know that he's on to me, maybe scare me into a confession, but it won't work. He's got nothing, Deb."

"I pray to fucking God you're right." I sigh.

"I need to be sure, though. If I can get into his apartment and see if he's keeping any notes on me, maybe even pictures depending on how long he's been following me around, I can just get rid of them. Then we can both have some peace of mind."

"I'll do it." I answer. "I know where he keeps his spare key."

"No, I'm not going to risk you getting caught. But I suppose you can help me."

I gesture for him to go on, and he looks deeper into my eyes before continuing.

"After LaGuerta's funeral tomorrow, I'll slip out sometime during the wake and you can make sure that he stays the entire time. It shouldn't take me too long. I'll be back before anyone notices." Dexter explains.

"It sounds simple now, Dex…but if he's already suspicious of you, I'm pretty sure he'll notice you randomly disappearing during the wake."

"Quinn isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. If you keep him entertained long enough, he won't notice a thing."

"Oh? And how am I supposed to entertain him?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him quizzically.

"You'll figure something out. Nothing too risqué, I hope." Dexter answers.

His mouth twists into a slight smile, and as much as I want to stay mad at him, I can't. I return him smile and place my hand over his. Fuck him and those stupid hazel eyes.

"I never wanted to drag you into this. If Harry could see us now…" he murmurs.

"Well, let's hope he can't." I laugh. "I can only imagine what he'd have to say about this." I squeeze his hand lightly. "We're going to be fine, right?"

"No matter what happens, we're going to be fine, Deb. I promise."

He leans in and gives me a quick peck on the lips before leaving the car, and I linger close behind.

I watch him as he makes his way back to the scene. His shoulders are slumped and his stride lacks its usual confidence. I don't know if I believe him or not, I don't even know if he believes himself; but right now, as I prepare to face the storm head on, his promise is all that's holding me together.


	11. Chapter 11

Hi guys! As always, thanks for reading and/or reviewing, it makes me all fuzzy inside to know that there are people who actually look forward to reading something that I've written. It still hasn't completely sunken in yet though haha. I noticed that I've gotten a couple of new follows and favorites, so to those of you who are new here, welcome aboard! :) I'm really excited to see how you all feel about these next two chapters, because I've been looking forward to getting to this point. I'm going to address some big things that I think were missing from season 8, which was why I started writing this story in the first place.

I wasn't going to update until Sunday, but notverypatient, your comment made me put this up a day early ;) I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

"Deb, are you almost ready? We really should get going now." I mumble as I lean against the bathroom door.

After my revelation about Quinn, Deb spent the rest of yesterday avoiding me. Even when we went back to my apartment after work, she barely said two words to me. I decided that it would be best to let her have her space for once, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't miss hearing the sound of her voice. I wanted her to berate me, or even to call me a "fucking moron" again. I don't like it when Deb's angry with me, but if forced to choose, I'd rather she be angry and expressive than angry and silent. Silence from Deb is never a good thing. I fear that if she keeps things bottled up inside for too long, she'll self-destruct.

I'd spent a few hours pretending to watch TV as Deb laid in the middle of the floor playing with Harrison. I tried not to make it too obvious that I was watching, but Deb occasionally turned away from setting up the elaborate toy train set to look in my direction. She still didn't say a word to me, but I felt a reassuring sense of tranquility in the air all the same. Long ago, I'd accepted the fact that I would never function like a normal human being, but as I sat there and watched Deb play with my son, the only child she would ever have, it felt like we could actually be a normal family for once.

I put Harrison to bed around 9:30. That was much later than his usual bedtime; but the first time I tried to get him to bed, he pitched a fit, declaring that he was having too much fun with Deb, and of course I couldn't argue with that. Once Harrison was finally tucked into bed, I went to my room to get some much needed rest of my own. I have no idea how much time had passed, but soon I felt Deb hesitantly crawl into bed beside me. I turned and wrapped my arms around her, feeling her muscles stiffen with my touch. She remained rigid for a short while before she gave up and sighed, finally tired of being angry with me. She nestled her head against my chest, and I started to lightly run my fingers through her hair, trying to lull her to sleep.

"I remember when you used to do this when we were kids," I said as I twirled a few strands of her long, silky hair in my hand. "You always waited until you thought I was asleep to come to me, but I never was. I even started waiting up for you some nights, and if you didn't come, I'd just lie awake for hours. It was like I couldn't fall asleep at all if I didn't know that you were near me."

"I felt so alone sometimes, especially after mom died." Deb replied after a pause so long I thought she had fallen asleep. "It seemed like dad couldn't give less of a shit about me, and you were distant too. I chalked that up to you thinking you were too cool to hang out with your stupid little sister, even though you were such a fucking _nerd_. So at night, I looked forward to being near you. Just listening to the sound of your breathing and watching your chest rise and fall, it made me feel less alone."

"I never knew you felt that way, Deb. You don't have to feel alone anymore, because I'll always be here. I love you."

"I know," she replied as she took her head off of my chest and locked eyes with me. The bedroom was shrouded in darkness, but there was no mistaking the pure devotion I saw looking back at me. "I love you too, Dex. Even when I'm calling you a fuckface or a moron, you better know that I love you more than anything, okay?"

"I've never doubted that," I said after placing a kiss on her forehead. "And I never will. Sometimes I wonder why you feel that way about me when I'm no good for you, but I'm thankful."

She softly placed her head back onto my chest, and together, we drifted off to sleep. We both slept peacefully through the night, but as soon as I woke up, I knew that the serenity couldn't last. Today's the day. LaGuerta's funeral will be Deb's true test. I know that I can put on a brave face, but can she?

The bathroom door swings open and Deb steps out wearing a knee-length black dress and a tight fitting black blazer. She looks absolutely stunning, but I decide against complimenting her, given the current circumstances.

We drive to the funeral in silence. When we arrive at the church, Deb grabs onto my hand tightly and this time, she doesn't let go as we make our way inside and sit down in an empty pew. She still clutches my hand in hers as Batista approaches us, dressed in an ill-fitting suit. His eyes are puffy from crying, but he forces a smile before addressing us.

"Dios te bendiga. I appreciate the two of you being here." He says, leaning down to place a kiss on Deb's forehead. "Deb, I know this is short notice, but it would mean a lot to me if you could say a few words."

"You mean like…give a eulogy? Angel, I…" Deb chokes out.

"It doesn't have to be a full blown speech, but I just can't…" He pauses to wipe away a few tears. "I don't think I can pull myself together in time, and you meant a lot to Maria. I know she never said it out loud, but she really respected you. She saw you as more than just a coworker."

"Okay," She replies. Her voice is shaky, as if she's on the verge of tears. "I'll do it."

* * *

As Deb steps in front of the podium, we lock eyes and I flash her an encouraging smile. She nods at me and then clears her throat before delivering what I'm sure is the most difficult speech she's ever had to make.

"Maria LaGuerta…" she begins, her voice cracking as she utters the name of our fallen captain. "Maria LaGuerta was more than a celebrated member of law enforcement. She was an inspiration to her community, and to me as well. She was…she was a hard woman to get along with at times. When I first made detective, I thought she fucking had it in for me or something," she pauses, shutting her eyes and mumbling 'sorry' before continuing.

"I thought she had something against me because she didn't exactly welcome me into the department with open arms. But when I really started getting to know her, I realized that it was just her special brand of tough love. She pushed me because she wanted me to succeed. She wanted me to be the best that I could be, and I don't think I would be where I am now if not for that push. I worked harder and harder to prove myself, and somewhere down the road, I really grew to respect her."

She pauses again, and this time, the tears start to fall.

"She didn't deserve any of this," Deb sputters through the tears that rapidly stream down her face. "None of us should be here reflecting on our memories of her, because she should still be here making new ones. I'm just…I'm just so sorry that any of this had to happen. If I could take it all back, I would."

My eyes widen at the sound of her apology. Surely she can't be doing this. My mind races with the thought of bolting to the front of the church and telling everyone that this is all too much for her. Maybe I could even drag her out of the church kicking and screaming if it came to that. I can't stand idly by and watch Deb dig her own grave. One more slip of the tongue and we're both fucked.

"I'm sorry that her life was cut so tragically short." She says.

I exhale the breath that I hadn't even realized I was holding in. Well, _that_ was close.

"There's nothing I can do to bring her back, but I promise to make sure that Maria didn't die in vain. Moving forward, I think it's important that we all keep that in mind. Thank you."

Deb steps from behind the podium and quickly makes her way back to me. I grab onto her violently shaking hand and she rests her head on my shoulder. Her sobs echo loudly against the church walls as everyone sits in silence, reflecting on her touching tribute.

"You're okay, I'm here." I whisper. "We're going to be fine."

* * *

It's hard for me to leave Deb after the near breakdown she just experienced, but this Quinn situation needs to be handled. I tell Deb that I shouldn't be gone for more than an hour, and then I slip out of the wake as planned and head to Quinn's apartment.

For a cop, he isn't very smart...at least not when it comes to securing his domicile. The spare key is exactly where Deb told me it would be, but I find that there's no need for it when I turn the knob and the door opens right up. _This _is the guy who thinks he can put me away? He can't even properly keep track of himself! Am I really supposed to believe that he's been sleuthing on me for longer than a few days? It's highly unlikely that Quinn is armed with anything but his suspicion, and that's meaningless without proof to back it up. Ask James Doakes. Ask Maria LaGuerta.

I slip on a pair of gloves as I enter the apartment. It's absolutely filthy, and I almost trip a few times over greasy pizza boxes and piled up magazines. I make my way into Quinn's bedroom and notice a picture of him and Deb from a year or two ago sitting on his nightstand. I chuckle to myself at the thought of Quinn still pining over her, and then power up the laptop that's sitting on his bed. There's a folder labeled 'BHB' and I click to open it, assuming that it stands for Bay Harbor Butcher. My suspicions prove to be correct, however, the folder's only contents are articles about Doakes and conspiracy theories suggesting his innocence that Quinn must've stumbled upon online. None of them are right of course, but I applaud their creativity.

I thoroughly inspect the rest of his apartment and find nothing of substance. That _should _relieve me, but I can't quite shake the feeling that something isn't right. Quinn is a detective, albeit not a particularly good one, but surely if he's been theorizing about my guilt and following me around to find concrete evidence, he would've documented _something_.

I think back to when I was interrupted in the warehouse. I don't remember seeing any lights or even a camera, but maybe that's because Quinn turned the flash off. If that's the case, whatever picture he took can't be very clear, but with the luck I've been having lately, it'll be what seals my fate. Still, I can't worry Deb. I have to maintain the façade that everything is under my control, because she's much too fragile after today's events. I can't risk her doing something impulsive like trying to hurt herself again.

I pull out my phone to call Deb, partially to hear the sound of her voice again and to make sure she's okay, but also to ask her about Quinn.

"Are you on your way back yet?" She asks.

"No, not yet. I need you to do something for me. Is Quinn with you?"

"No, he's talking to Masuka by the buffet table. I've been keeping an eye on him, though."

"Good. Do you think you'd be able to get a hold of his phone? I haven't found anything here, but if he took a picture of me in that warehouse, I'm sure it's on that phone." I explain.

"Okay," she sighs. "I'll call you back soon. Hurry the fuck up."

She hangs up the phone before I can say anything else. I put my phone back in my pocket and to my surprise, Harry is now seated across from me on an old leather recliner.

"This is dangerous territory, Dex." He says.

"I've handled worse." I snap. "First rule of the code is don't get caught. You're the one who taught me that, remember?"

"Of course I remember, but you're not thinking this through. I taught you to protect yourself, but I didn't teach you to be reckless."

I roll my eyes at the pesky ghost of my father. He always comes to me and acts all high and mighty, as if he wasn't the one who lead me down this path in the first place. I experienced trauma as a child that played a part in shaping who I am, but who knows what could've happened if dear old dad had gotten me professional help instead of teaching me the code? Deb thinks there's good in me, and I'm actually starting to believe her. Maybe I could've had a shot at a normal life. Maybe Deb, Harrison, and I could've actually been a normal family. Well, normal for us anyway.

"What if your sister does find a photo on that detective's phone? Once he's notices that it's been erased, he'll know she was the one responsible, and then you'll _both_ be going down." Harry asserts.

"No photo, no proof. Quinn can scream that Deb deleted the picture until he's blue in the face, but no evidence is no evidence. Believe me, I've thought this through. I'd never do anything to put Deb in danger."

"But you already have, son." My father challenges.

With that, he's gone and I don't mind one bit. I've been seeing less and less of him lately, and that's fine by me. I don't understand why Deb used to want his attention so much, because I'm sick of it.

My focus shifts when I hear the front door opening. I quickly retreat to the closet and crouch down inside. It's a tight fit, but I manage to squeeze the door closed almost completely.

"Joey? Are you home yet?"

Jaime.

Anxiety hits me with the sound of her voice. I remove the M99 that I'd kept strapped inside of my pant leg, hoping that I won't have to use it. If this were anyone else, I would immediately rush out to sedate them, but this is Jaime. She knows me. She babysits my son almost every day. If she were to see me here, it would be damning. I can't think of a single good excuse as to why I would be in Joey Quinn's apartment and not at LaGuerta's funeral.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes to life. I turn it on vibrate, quietly cursing myself for not doing so before I got here, but it's too late. Jaime calls out a hesitant "Joey?" before entering the bedroom.

I hold my breath and sit as still as possible. All I can do is hope that Jaime doesn't come any closer, more for her sake than mine at this point. The wait is agonizing, but after standing in the middle of the room for a few seconds, she leaves. I wait until I hear her close the front door of the apartment before exiting the closet.

Once I hear the sound of her car peeling out of the parking lot, I leave the apartment and walk a few blocks to where I'd parked my car almost an hour before. I check my phone and see that I have a missed call and a voicemail, both from Deb.

"Dex," the message begins. Deb's voice is quivering and it sounds like she's on the brink of tears, which worries me. I start my car and prepare to head back to the church as the rest of the message plays.

"I'm so fucking sorry Dexter, h-he left. I was talking to Miller for two minutes tops, and the next thing I know, Quinn's fucking _gone_. Masuka too! I fucked up. I fucking fucked everything up. I need you."


	12. Chapter 12

It's only been fifteen minutes since I left Dexter that frantic voicemail, but I already feel like I'm going to jump out of my own skin. I've been sitting in a bathroom stall, doing an extremely poor job of trying to muffle my sobs as I wait for Dex to get his ass back here. To do what exactly I have no fucking clue, because we're screwed either way. I'm sure that Quinn is arranging for Dexter's arrest right at this very moment, and a warrant against me will probably be coming soon after.

So this is how the world ends. This next step that Dexter and I have taken in our relationship has made me the happiest I've been in months, but I should've known that it couldn't last. I guess I just wasn't meant to be happy. Dexter and I were destructive forces on our own, but together, we became ticking time bombs. And now, after we've finally found our way to each other, it's time for the explosion. The damage that will be left in our path is catastrophic.

Batista will be distraught after learning of my betrayal. Everyone at the station will wonder how they held the Morgans in such high esteem, how they were so close to us and still didn't see the signs. If the fallout after Doakes was bad, this is going to be a thousand times worse. And Harrison? My poor little nephew didn't ask for any of this. Who will take care of him after his aunt gets 25 to life and his daddy fries in the electric chair?

I want to blame Dexter for all of this, to go off on him for acting like a jealous teenager and sloppily killing that piece of shit at the bar, but that won't change anything. Right now I just want to hold him…maybe for the last time.

Suddenly, the bathroom door slams against the wall as it's roughly shoved open.

"Deb! Deb, are you in here?" Dexter shouts.

I fling the stall door open and practically knock Dexter off of his feet when I wrap my arms firmly around his neck. The tears are pouring from my eyes even faster now, and if I weren't so hysterical I would probably be embarrassed over what a blubbering mess I am.

"Sssh, sssh it's okay. We're okay." He assures me, stroking his hand up and down the back of my head like he did last night.

I pull away from his embrace and he guides me over to the sink. I look in the mirror and am instantly caught off guard by how terrible I look. Mascara is running down my cheeks in long, black streaks, and the red lipstick that I'd actually made an effort to apply this morning has smudged all over my mouth and chin.

Dexter carefully lifts me up and sits me down on the sink, then wets a few paper towels and begins to softly scrub the smeared makeup off of my face.

"What are we going to do?" I whisper after I finally manage to stop crying. "I didn't mean to let him leave, but it all happened so fucking _fast_."

"Right now, we need to relax. There's a reasonable explanation for Quinn leaving early. Today's still a work day, so he probably just went back to the station. If this were about us, I highly doubt that he'd involve Masuka, he's just a forensics guy. Even if Quinn does have a picture, showing it to Masuka would be pointless. He isn't law enforcement, and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it." Dexter explains.

"How do you know that he didn't just ride back to the station with Masuka? He's probably talking to Matthews right as we speak. Oh Christ. Oh Jesus fucking CHRIST!" I exclaim.

"_Deb_." Dexter says, tossing the dirty paper towels into the trash can and sternly grabbing onto my shoulders. "If you keep on freaking out like this, you're going to give yourself a brain aneurysm. Just fucking relax, okay?"

I smile at his clearly deliberate use of my favorite word, and a relieved expression washes over his face.

"Okay, good. We should probably go home and change, and then go to the station. It's vital that we act as normal as possible through all of this." He says.

"Alright…but you're going to have to teach me." I reply hesitantly.

"Teach you what?" Dexter asks.

"How to put on the mask."

* * *

After Dexter changes out of his mascara-stained shirt and I trade my dress for a blouse and a pair of blue jeans, we make our way to the station. I considered calling out sick again, but cases have been piling up lately, and I know that I should be there since i'm supposed to be the one in charge. I've been a shitty police lieutenant so far, the least I can do is actually show up for work.

I head to my office alone, wishing that Dexter could come in and comfort me, but I know that I can't risk someone finding him in here again. It'll be the best for both of us if we stay away from each other for the time being.

I close the blinds, pop a couple of Xanax (more than my suggested dose, but hey, this is a special fucking occasion), and start looking over all of the unsolved case files that have started to pile up on my desk. For the most part they're all run of the mill homicides that i've seen a dozen times before, but looking at photos of bloody corpses is starting to make me feel dizzy. It feels like my head is spinning, and I toss the file that I'd been perusing clear across the room. It hits the floor with a light smack, and I shakily get out of my chair and sink down to the floor.

What the fuck is happening to me? I've never been squeamish before; if I was, I never would've become a cop in the first place. It seems like ages ago now, but I used to be eager to get down to a crime scene and piece together what happened. Granted, I was never as…enthusiastic as Dexter, but I was anxious. My greatest desire as a rookie was to get up close and personal, to be where all the action was. Now, I can't even look at a goddamn _picture_. I'm slowly breaking, and I'm scared that I'll never be able to put myself back together.

I hear a knock on the door and I dubiously get up and open it. My breath catches when I see Joey standing on the other side.

"We need to talk, Deb." He says in a voice so stoic that I barely recognize it as his own. "I was going to do this as soon as you came back to work, but then I thought it would be better to just wait until after the funeral."

My feet feel like they're cemented to the floor, and I stand before him wide-eyed. I know what's coming next, but I have no idea how to handle it. He carefully pushes past me and sits down on top of my desk. I close the door and take a deep breath before turning to face him.

"Do we…do we have to do this now?" I ask shakily.

I can tell that Joey knows something is up. He's giving me that look that he used to once upon a time, back when we were together and he could sense that something was bothering me. Now though, instead of rushing to comfort me like he used to, he cuts right to the chase.

"Deb, I have something to tell you that I know you're not gonna want to hear. I think you should sit down."

"I can balance fine on my two fucking legs, Joey. If there's something you have to say to me, then say it." I snap, regaining control of my feet and backing up to lean against the door.

"It's about Dexter…"He clenches his fist at his side before continuing. "LaGuerta was right about him, Deb. I haven't taken this to Matthews yet because I wanted you to be the first person I told."

"Joey, whatever the fuck it is you think you know about my brother…"

"I don't _think_ Deb, I _know_. I followed him two days ago on impulse. He went to that abandoned warehouse, and when I saw him drag a guy out of his trunk, I thought I was going fucking crazy. I mean, I'd suspected that something was off with him for a while, but I put it out of my mind for your sake. After LaGuerta, though…that was too many coincidences, too many accusations. Doakes? Dead. Maria? Dead. Even Stan Liddy! Dead. I know that you guys are close, but you're a detective, Deb, and a damn good one at that. I know that deep down inside, you believe me." He insists.

"Maybe you need some time off, Joey. Maria's passing can't be easy for you."

The expression on his face changes from hopeful to offended. It hurts me to invalidate his feelings like this, but what else am I supposed to do? Turn Dexter in? Of course not, that's never been an option. No matter how much I lied to myself in the beginning, no matter how much I insisted that I bled blue, my number one priority has always been protecting Dexter. Not for one second did I ever truly believe that I was going to turn him in. All that I can do now is try to get Quinn to let this go. There's a slim chance that this confrontation is as far as this goes, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that's the case. Quinn will never trust me or Dexter again, there's no stopping that now; but if I'm lucky, I can save Quinn's life.

"Don't do this, Deb. At least hear me out."

"No! I'm not going to just stand here and listen to you call my fucking lab geek of a brother a serial killer! Do you know how absolutely ridiculous you sound? Accusations like this could _ruin_ you, Joey. If you walk away from this right now, we'll never speak of it again. No hard feelings, I swear."

"So that's it then? You don't want to hear a thing I have to say?" He asks.

I close my eyes and shake my head no in response.

"Then how about I show you?"

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and flips through the photos before getting off of my desk and shoving the phone into my face. I adjust my eyes to look at the screen. The scene is hard to make out, but I can see that there are two people in the photo: one lying still on a table, and the other with his hand on some sort of tool. A power saw, if I were to guess. I know that what I'm looking at is a picture of Dexter standing over Marv's dead body, but I doubt that anyone but Quinn would know the same. It's too dark to actually see much of anything.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say to this, Joey. It's way too dark to see the person's face…it could be anyone." I reply.

Joey glares at me, and then backs away.

"You and I both know who this is, Debra." He says. "I was fucking _there_, are you saying i'm blind?"

"That's not what i'm saying at all Joey. Maybe you're confused..." I mutter, looking down at my feet to avoid his icy blue gaze.

"Excuse me, lieutenant. I should probably get back to work. There's clearly nothing left to say here."

I step away from the door so he can pass, and he makes a show of slamming it as he leaves.

"Fucking _fuck_." I mumble.

The venom in Joey's voice as he called me 'lieutenant' told me all that I need to know. Whatever bond it is that might have remained between us is gone. It's devastating, and if someone told me a year ago that I would betray one of my best friends like this, I would've laughed in their face. Still, in some odd way, it feels like a weight has been lifted. It's better this way. Quinn can finally be done with me. He can be happy with Jaime, or whoever else he might end up with.

I place a hand on my cheek and am surprised to find that it's dry. I hadn't shed a single tear. It's getting easier and easier for me to lie, and I can't tell if that's a good or bad thing.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I sink back down to the floor and lean my head against the cool wooden door. I think back to the promise Dexter made me yesterday. Now, I'm actually starting to believe him. No matter what happens, we're going to be fine.

After sitting there for a minute or two, I decide to go to Dexter's lab and tell him what happened. I get up and grab a case file off of my desk so I can use it as an excuse as to why I'm there if anybody were to get curious. I hurry to his lab and let myself right in.

"I just got done talking to Quinn." I pant, slightly out of breath.

"What did he say?" Dexter asks, getting out of his chair and gesturing for me to sit down. I flash a hint of a smile and take a seat before continuing.

"He knows. But you were right. He showed me the picture, and he might as well just delete it because it proves absolutely nothing. It's too dark to make out any faces."

"See, I told you." He says, sitting on his desk and placing a warm hand on my thigh. "We've got nothing to worry about."

"I guess so, but it kind of fucking sucked to lie to him like that." I reply.

"I wish I didn't have to say this to you, but it'll get easier. Believe me." He says, rubbing his hand up and down my thigh.

I have half a mind to tell him that it already _has_ gotten easier, but I decide against it.

The door to Dexter's lab abruptly swings open, and Dexter quickly snatches his hand off of my thigh as Masuka enters the room, carrying a yellow folder in his hand. I recognize it as the kind of folder the forensics guys use for test results, so I get out of Dexter's chair and move towards the door so they can get back to work.

"It's okay, Deb. You can sit back down. I was looking for you, actually." Masuka says uneasily.

I sit back down as Angel enters the lab and stands next to Masuka. They exchange an odd look that can only be described as weary, and Vince nods affirmatively at Angel.

"Deb, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need you down in interrogation." Angel mumbles.

A queasy smile spreads across my face and my eyes dart around the room from Angel, to Masuka, and finally, to Dexter.

"It this some kind of joke? Masuka, what is he talking about?" I ask.

"A couple of the new forensics guys forgot to test a few DNA samples that were found on and around LaGuerta's body. I just found the samples filed away in the wrong box last night, so I tested them and the hairs found at the scene came back as a match for you, Deb." Masuka explains, looking everywhere but at me.

"Deb," Angel begins. "I have the grounds to make an arrest here, but I _know_ you, so I'm not going to. Still, I need you to come with me. We have to get this straightened out." Angel says.

"You must've fucked up the test, Masuka!" Dexter screams with a fury that's so…un-Dexter. Well, at least so un-Dexter-at-work. "Give me the samples, I'll retest them."

"I tested the samples three times, Dex. It's a perfect genetic match." Masuka sighs.

Angel places a hand on my wrist and even though he said that I'm not under arrest, it sure as shit feels like I am. He guides me out of the lab and I turn to look at Dexter as we walk away. I try to put on a brave face, but I know that my eyes reveal just how scared I am.

Dexter leaps off of his desk and grabs the first object within reach: his computer. He snatches it off of the desk and slams it onto the ground. The screen shatters as it hits the floor, and I gasp at his sudden display of rage as Angel continues guiding me to the interrogation room, seemingly unfazed.

"Dex!" I shriek.

"Don't say anything, Deb!" Dexter screams. "I'm going to fix this, you hear me?"

I focus on his face until it disappears from view, and I know that no matter what Dexter says to try to make me feel better, it's up to me to get us through this in one piece. I brace myself as Angel leads me into the eye of the storm, ready as i'll ever be to finally face it head-on.


	13. Chapter 13

Heyyy lovely people! For some reason it feels like I haven't updated in ages. I've had Chapter 13 sitting around for a while, so I guess that's probably why. Chapter 14 is slightly longer than usual, I hope you don't mind :) I was going to wait to post it and just put up Chapter 13 for now, but i've been doing 2 chapters every time I update so that just felt wrong to me lol.

**AngryHellFish **i'm really glad that I was able to trick you because I wasn't sure if I did well or not building up suspense there haha. I'm so happy that you're enjoying this, your review really made me smile :) **Guest** thanks so much, that really means a lot to me. Season 8 could've been so much better than what we got. I think they really failed with Deb and Dex's relationship. Even if they didn't want to go the romantic route, they kind of just dropped how important they were to each other after the first couple of episodes. Dexter kind of stopped caring about Deb until the finale, which was complete bullshit :l **ROSEY cheeks **I'm sooo happy to see you back, your reviews never fail to make me smile. I share your feelings about Quinn honestly. I have something planned for him, but i'm not going to give anything away! lol I can't promise you that Dexter and Deb are going to live happily ever after, but i'll do my best give them an ending that they deserve :)

I love you all, and as always, your feedback is greatly appreciated!

* * *

All I see is red. The blood that trickles behind my eyelids is insidious, and I feel myself gradually starting to lose control. Masuka is still standing in my lab, the spitting image of a wide-eyed puppy that just wandered into the wrong yard. I turn to face him with my fists clenched at my sides, wanting nothing more than to wring his neck right here and now. No, that's too easy; I'll slit his wrists and let him bleed out onto the linoleum floor while everyone stands and watches, shocked into speechlessness. I want to witness the light slowly fade from his eyes. I want to take his life away, just like he took Deb's…but there's no longer any room for sloppiness and impulsiveness. There never was, and I should have realized that long before I got my sister involved in any of this.

_Deb. _She needs me.

"Get out of my way, Vince." I say after I manage to compose myself.

"Dex, I'm sorry…but DNA doesn't lie, man. You know that."

I ignore Masuka's statement and push past him on my way out of the lab.

"They're going to take the cost of that computer right out of your paycheck, dude!" He yells after me. "I would take it easy if I were you!"

I know that I shouldn't have been so aggressive in front of my co-workers; after all, the Dexter Morgan they know and love is a reserved lab geek. I've done my best over the years to maintain that façade and avoid revealing my true self, but every second that Deb spends in police custody brings me closer to the edge and if things get any worse, I'm bound to fall off. Deb is my lifeline. She's what keeps me grounded. Without her here to keep me in check, there's no telling what I'd do next. If my colleagues think that the destroyed computer was the extent of my rage, they'll be in for a rude awakening if Deb isn't back in my arms soon, safe and sound.

Masuka continues to shout misguided warnings my way, but I ignore his idiocy and break into a brisk jog through the hallway, determined to find Deb before anything earth-shattering has the chance to go down. When I spot the interrogation room that Deb and Batista are in, I turn on the intercom so I can listen to what's being said. I know that as the blood guy I don't have the clearance to listen in on police interrogations, but that doesn't matter to me now. What matters is making sure that Deb doesn't incriminate herself. I'll break this glass and put an end to the questioning myself if it comes to that. I consider Batista a friend, one of my _only _friends, in fact, but that doesn't mean that I won't take care of him if I become desperate enough.

"Deb, you're going to have to start talking." Angel pushes.

Deb looks up and seems to stare directly into my eyes before answering. I know that she isn't really looking _at_ me; it's a two-way mirror and she can't see anything but her reflection, but a part of me believes that she knows I'm here. I'm glad that she trusts that I wouldn't let her face this alone. How could I? This is all my fault anyway.

When Deb sat in that trailer clutching onto LaGuerta's corpse, the first thought to cross my mind was that she was contaminating the crime scene. I thought that I did my best removing any trace of her, but my best clearly wasn't good enough. Because of my carelessness, Deb might pay the ultimate price. She was right to go off on me yesterday. No matter how apologetic I am, I end up falling right back into the cycle. I'm constantly hurting Deb, constantly forcing the knife deeper and deeper. If Angel manages to see through her lies, this could end up being the fatal wound.

"Doesn't this seem like an overreaction? It hurts that you would even think that I was capable of hurting Maria." Deb finally answers.

She's playing the offended victim card. Good. My darling little sister is stronger than she thinks, but playing dumb is definitely her best option for now.

"I don't want to think that, Deb. It doesn't make any sense. That's why I need you to start talking." Angel presses.

Deb takes a deep breath and hardens her gaze on me.

"You're doing fine, Deb. You're okay." I say, despite the fact that I know my words will go unheard. For once in my life, I have faith; faith that she'll be able to handle herself as she has so many times before.

"Angel, it's _me_, one of your closest friends," She says. "This is a fucking enormous waste of time. Cases have been piling up on my desk, so I really should be getting back to work."

"I don't care about those other cases right now, Deb. Maria LaGuerta was murdered in cold blood, and things are not adding up. _Talk._" Angel replies, refusing to back down.

"Her killer is six feet under, where he belongs. There's really nothing left to say here, Angel. I think it would be best for everyone if we closed the case."

"_Talk._" Angel repeats through gritted teeth, ignoring my sister's plea.

"Maria and I worked in close proximity to each other. We had contact multiple times per day, and hair sheds. My hair is pretty long, so it's very likely that a couple of strands ended up falling on her shirt when I saw her earlier that afternoon." Deb challenges.

Her expression is composed, maybe even confident, and I smile to myself as I place a hand on the glass. She's always been cunning, but as I watch her play Angel like a violin, it's like watching the master at work. We're not out of the woods yet, but this is going much better than expected. The Morgans might be alright after all.

"And what about the couple of hairs found on the warehouse floor?" Angel asks.

There's uneasiness in his voice, and he sounds almost embarrassed to have jumped to this conclusion in the first place. I know that he wants nothing more than for Deb to give him a perfectly reasonable explanation for the evidence found at the scene. Knowing that Hector Estrada murdered Maria will haunt Angel for the rest of his life, but if he were to discover that she actually died at Deb's hand, that would be an even harder pill to swallow. On the surface, Angel's relentless questioning may seem like he's yearning for a confession, but in reality, he wants the opposite. Still, he remains stubborn, not entirely convinced that justice has been served for his late ex-wife.

"Explain that, Deb." He urges.

"The hairs could've easily fallen off of Maria's shirt after Estrada shot her." Deb assures him.

Angel nods, which results in a well-deserved sigh of relief from Deb.

"You know, that's what I thought too at first. But I started looking into some more loose ends from that night, and I found something that can't be brushed off quite as easily as a few hairs."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Deb asks, sounding genuinely curious.

"I checked with dispatch, and there's a record of you calling about Captain LaGuerta's whereabouts no more than fifteen minutes prior to her death. I didn't think much of it initially, but paired with the DNA test results Masuka passed on to me, it's a bit alarming. I'm sure you'd think so too, if you'd bothered to look into any of this." Angel declares.

"Jesus, Deb." I mumble.

I had no idea that she'd called dispatch. This is bad. How could she not know that they keep records of that? Then again, she didn't plan on being forced to choose between my life and Maria's that night. Once again, it all comes back to me. This is all _my_ fault. Yes, Deb pulled the trigger, but she wouldn't have had to if not for me. I've failed her once again.

This cross-examination has taken a drastic turn, and I know that sooner rather than later, I need to take action. But what can I possibly do? I don't have a key to the interrogation room, and banging on the door to demand that Batista leave Deb alone will do nothing but make him even more suspicious of us both. I hate to say it, but my only real plan is to let Deb fend for herself.

It's pathetic. I can't even protect her when she needs me the most. My heart starts to beat at a dangerous pace as I anticipate how Deb will talk her way out of this one. She's handled herself well so far given the circumstances, but I know that with the already damning DNA evidence, one slip in Deb's story is all Angel needs to take this to the next level.

I have half a mind to yell for her not to say another word until she has a lawyer present, but I know that Deb is well-aware of her rights. The fact that she hasn't officially been placed under arrest or even been read her rights brings me some consolation, but I still find myself holding my breath in anticipation of what my sister is going to say next.

"I remembered you wondering if Maria was going to show up to your party, so I called dispatch to find out whether or not she was on her way." Deb answers after a slight hesitation.

It's an okay save, but is it convincing enough for Angel to call off the witch hunt?

"Why didn't you just call her cell phone?" He asks.

No, of course it isn't.

"I forgot her number and I didn't feel like asking around for it. Calling dispatch was…convenient." Deb answers.

The look on her face tells me that she knows her story sounds like complete and utter bullshit, but it might actually do the job. Batista is hell bent on uncovering the true cause of Maria's death, but he also values Deb's friendship. I don't think he'd throw it away just like that…would he?

"You and Maria were friends. Wouldn't you already have her number saved in your contacts?" Angel asks.

"Why is it that you're so sure this case isn't closed, Angel?" Deb interjects, expertly changing the subject of the conversation. "Believe me, I know how much you're hurting, and I know that it's fucking frustrating that Estrada took Maria away from us, but sooner or later you're going to have to accept it and move on."

"I'm trying to do just that, Deb. You have no idea how much I want this all to be over with, but I can't just ignore all of the signs telling me that something isn't quite right here." Angel sighs.

"What reason could I possibly have to kill Maria? It doesn't make any sense!" Deb asks shrilly.

"You're right, it doesn't make any sense. The reason you gave me for calling dispatch is bullshit, Deb. Your call wasn't patched through to Maria, the operator simply gave you her whereabouts. It's more than suspicious that you were the only person we know of who was aware of Maria's location around her time of death, and a hell of a coincidence that traces of you were found at the scene." He declares. "I need you to tell me why you really called dispatch, and I need it to make sense this time. _Please._"

"I already told you why, but you're still searching for explanations that aren't there. This case is way too personal for you, Angel. As your boss, I think it's best that you recuse yourself."

"Don't pull that boss shit with me, Debra. You're better than that. I think it's best that you start telling me the truth!" Angel yells, slamming his fist down onto the metal table.

Deb backs away, startled. Her lips purse together the way they always do when she's nervous, and I press my forehead against the glass in a pointless attempt at comforting her.

"I was at your party the entire time. Ask Dex, you know he was with me." She asserts. "I wish I could say something to make you feel better, but nothing I do could ever make this okay. All I can say is that putting the blame on anyone but Estrada will just make things worse. You'll never be able to heal if you don't come to terms with that."

As Angel collects his thoughts, I feel a firm grip on my shoulder. I turn around and see Thomas Matthews standing behind me. I'm usually very observant of my surroundings, but I didn't even hear the slightest peep as Matthews crept up behind me. With Deb's freedom hanging in the balance, the only thing that I could possibly focus on is her. A squad of cops could have descended upon me as I watched my everything being cross-examined behind that glass, and I probably would have let them take me. Nothing matters but Deb. I'd do anything if it meant keeping her safe.

"Dexter, the scene you made back there was unprofessional and irresponsible. I need you to come with me." Tom beckons.

"I'm sorry for that, Tom. I'll clean everything up when this is all over, but I can't come with you right now. I can't, Deb –"I say.

"Your sister is going to be fine for the time being, but this can't wait. I need to speak with you immediately." He replies, cutting me off and only frustrating me more.

"You don't understand!" I snap.

"It wasn't a question, Dexter. Follow me. _Now_."

I reluctantly separate myself from the window and follow Matthews to his office. Once we're both inside, he locks the doors and closes the blinds. The gravity of the situation is apparent to me, but I don't understand how anything he has to say to me could possibly be more important than what's happening with Deb. I'll replace the fucking computer, but I could never replace Deb. Without her, I'd be lost. I'd be a hollow shell of a person. How could I be expected to function with my heart missing?

"With all due respect, you need to step in and end that joke of an interrogation immediately. Angel Batista shouldn't even have the power to do this! Debra is the police lieutenant_. _She's his superior!" I rant. "Deb shouldn't be going through this alone. She's shouldn't be going through this _at all. _She didn't –"

"Dexter, I'm only going to say this once, so listen closely." Matthews begins, interrupting me yet again. "I know."

"You know what?" I ask, doing my best to maintain the illusion of calmness as my heart races. Does he really know that Deb is guilty? Is he about to haul her off to jail himself?

"Your father and I were very close, Dexter. He told me a lot of things in confidence, things that need to remain a secret. Are you following me?" He asks.

"I don't know what you're trying to say here, Tom."

"I'm saying that I know what you are. I know what you do." Matthews replies. He says those words so nonchalantly, as if he were telling a friend about his plans for the weekend, or asking for an extra packet of ketchup at McDonald's. "Before he passed, your father asked me to look out for you and Debra, and I have every intention to keep that promise as I have all these years."

"I…" is all I manage to choke out in response.

My mouth falls open and I know that I probably look like an idiot, because I sure as hell feel like one. Matthews has known about the _real_ me all along. Now, his actions over the years have started making sense.

Deb has always been intelligent, and she's more than capable at her job, but even I thought it was a bit strange that she was promoted to lieutenant at such a young age. Batista was the natural choice for the job; he's older and has put in more years at Miami Metro than Deb has, so it surprised everyone when she was chosen instead. When the Bay Harbor Butcher case was first being investigated, Matthews personally assigned _me_ to handle the forensics, which gave me the perfect opportunity to remove any trace of myself from the evidence and subsequently letting Doakes take the fall for my crimes. Matthews even warned me that LaGuerta had suspicions about me, which allowed me to cover my tracks and orchestrate the (seemingly) brilliant LaGuerta-Estrada double murder.

In many ways, Thomas Matthews has been my guardian angel all along.

"Now's not the time for reflection, Dexter. You need to fix this." Matthews declares.

"How?" I ask. "Batista's evidence against Deb is largely circumstantial, but the damage has already been done. If he publicly accuses her of murdering LaGuerta, then there will be a massive internal investigation, and I don't know how I could protect her if it came to that."

"God, Dexter. I made Deb lieutenant because I knew that if she ever found out what you are, she would protect you. But I never expected her to murder the fucking police captain!" He exclaims.

"She didn't kill anyone…" I lie. "I-it wasn't her fault."

"Cut the crap, Dexter. I don't want to hear any of your excuses." He says with a defeated sigh. "It's time. You know what you have to do."


	14. Chapter 14

"Okay, let's run through New Year's again. Retrace your steps and don't leave anything out this time, Deb. Even if you left the party to get a freakin' sandwich, I wanna know about it. We just have to be sure of the timeline, that's all." Angel coaxes.

I look at the clock on the wall and if it's working properly, what feels like hours has actually only been twenty minutes. Lying to Angel hasn't been easy for me; he's one person on a depressingly short list of people that I can still call 'friend', and it breaks whatever heart I have left to see him like this. The old Deb, the Deb that Angel ingenuously believes still exists, would've never been able to lie in his face like this...but things change. _People_ change; I've learned that the hard way.

Despite my heart thumping anxiously in my chest, I refuse to crumble under the weight of this untold secret between us. I've come too far to give up now. Dexter is mine and I'm his, and I wouldn't change that if I could. We're all we have left, and we have to do whatever it takes to keep our family safe. The illusion of safety that we'd foolishly created for ourselves has come and gone, and I try to tell myself that all the hurt I leave in my wake is just a formality. It has to be. Still, I don't think I could ever get used to wearing the mask like Dexter does.

I know that the excuse I gave Angel for calling dispatch was really fucking stupid, but there's no going back now. Changing my story after so adamantly defending it moments ago will only make it look like I have something to hide, and I don't need to give Angel any more reasons to place me under arrest.

Just as I'm about to retell my story for the third time, Matthews walks into the room with Dexter following close behind.

"Batista, I think that's enough. Unless you're making an arrest, you need to let Debra go." Matthews states.

Dexter moves to stand behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. I feel them shaking slightly. He's scared, but the fact that he's doing his best to comfort me doesn't go unnoticed. To be honest, I actually feel safe now, despite the fact that I'm still smack dab in the middle of this shitstorm.

"No, no arrest." Angel answers half-heartedly. "At least...not yet."

"Alright, I'm going to send all three of you home early. It's been a long, emotional day, so it's understandable that Angel took things a little too far. His heart was in the right place, but…" Matthews begins.

"Not you too, Tom." Angel says, getting out of his chair to stand eye to eye with the temporary police captain. "This isn't about emotion, this is about doing what's _right_. We're cops. It's our job to follow every lead, no matter how uncomfortable it might make us. I love Deb and she knows that, but I can't just ignore this."

"Come on, Deb. Let's go." Dexter chimes in.

"No, Deb. We're not through here. Please sit back down, I only have a few more questions and then we're all clear." Angel begs pathetically after I get out of my seat.

"Go home Angel!" Matthews shouts. "I won't tell you again. I'm closing the case this afternoon, and Hector Estrada will be listed as the perpetrator whether you like it or not. Please just drop this. Nobody wants to see you follow in Maria LaGuerta's footsteps."

"What did you just say?" Angel asks, inching closer to Matthews.

"You heard me. In her final days, Maria developed an unhealthy fixation on a lead that just wasn't there. That fixation ruined her career and ultimately cost her her life. Don't tarnish your legacy like she did hers." He replies.

"Don't you dare speak ill of Maria in front of me, Tom." Angel warns through gritted teeth. "I know that you aren't the most compassionate guy, but you must have even a sliver of respect for the dead."

"It doesn't matter if I respect her or not, Batista. Maria is still dead, and Estrada still pulled that trigger. Cut the bullshit and go home before I decide to give you a week's suspension." Matthews advises.

Before I can ever register what's happening, Angel descends upon Matthews and slams his fist against his face, hitting him so hard that he knocks him off his feet in the process.

"Don't you ever speak Maria LaGuerta's name again. She was a good woman, but you? You're not even worth the dirt on the bottom of my shoe." Angel says menacingly. He stands above Tom's keeled over form with his fist still raised, and his hulking silhouette creates a striking contrast to the gentle giant that I've known him as for years. "I don't care if you suspend me for _twelve_ weeks, Tom. Do your worst."

Angel leaves the room in a rage, and Dexter helps Matthews get back onto his feet.

"Shit Tom, are you okay?" I ask hesitantly.

"I'm better than Angel Batista is going to be. I wonder how bold he'll be feeling when his only source of income is begging for change on the A-train." He proclaims, brushing dust off of his suit. "Go home you two. I'll get everything straightened out here."

Dexter nods affirmatively at Tom and grabs my hand. I don't even bother trying to break free of his grasp as we walk through the sea of onlookers. I don't want to let go of him for a second. Today was too much of a close call, and just because the brunt of it has passed doesn't mean we're out of the storm yet.

We make the drive to Dex's apartment in silence, neither of us quite ready to address the fact that I was practically brought up on murder charges. Once we get inside, I pour myself a glass of water and pop two of my anxiety pills while Dexter broods at me. How many of these things have I taken today? I know it's bad, but I've lost count. The numbness that the pills bring me is intoxicating, and I appreciate any sense of calm I'm able to feel, even if it's a false one.

"If you want to call me a moron, I totally fuckin' understand." I mumble.

"No, I'm the one who fucked everything up. Jesus, Deb. I'm so sorry." Dexter responds shakily. "I can't believe I almost lost you. I was supposed to protect you. You should've killed me, not LaGuerta. I would've understood."

"If I killed you, you would've been too dead to understand a fucking thing, asshole." I reply.

I place my now empty glass on the counter and move to stand in front of Dexter. I tenderly place a hand on his cheek and his eyes flutter shut as he leans into my touch. It feels weird to be comforting him in this situation since it probably should be the other way around, but in a strange way, I'm grateful. I don't think I've ever seen him act this delicate around me. Dexter isn't as indestructible as he wants me to believe, and that scares me, but it reassures me, too. He's human. He _feels_. Maybe not quite as much as I do, but it's there. The light that I've always seen in him is shining a little brighter now.

"It's okay," I assure him. "We're okay."

Dexter wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer.

"We need to talk." He whispers into my ear.

"We've done enough talking for one day, Dex." I reply, pulling away from him just enough to look into his eyes. "Don't talk, just follow."

I take his hand in mine and guide him to the bedroom. Once inside, I kick off my shoes and plop down on the bed.

"Lately, all I've been thinking about is what would happen if we lost each other." I begin. "While Angel was grilling me earlier, I started to consider how much easier things would be if I decided to give you up, or if I shot you instead of LaGuerta. But I don't fucking want easy, Dexter. I want you." I proclaim as he moves to sit beside me. "If there's a hell, I'm pretty sure that's where I'm headed. But if I'm riding shotgun with you, then you know what? Maybe it's fucking worth it."

"You're not going to hell, Deb." Dexter answers, his brows furrowing in response. "You're a good person. You're the _best _person. I don't deserve you."

He leans in painfully slow. When his lips finally meet mine, the kiss is tender and lingering, as if he's scared of hurting me. I glide my tongue across his bottom lip and he gives in immediately, parting his lips to grant me entrance. He groans as I reach down to unbuckle his belt, and I feel his erection pressed hard against me. He momentarily pulls away from the kiss to unbutton my blouse and toss it to the floor. As he starts working on my jeans, I direct my attention to undoing the buttons on his dorky shirt.

Soon, both of us are completely exposed as we wait for the other to make the next move. I decide to be proactive and lightly push him onto his back and climb on top to straddle him. His eyes stare deeply into mine as he waits expectantly for me to take control. I crane my neck to get a better look at him, letting my hair cascade across his bare arm.

"Yeah, you're right. You don't deserve me." I tease. "But, I love you for it."

"I need you." Dexter says, covering my hand with his as I reach down to guide him inside of me.

I gasp at he fills me up completely, and then place both of my palms flat on his chest as I start to ride him. He rests his hands on my hips, his soft grasp the opposite of his bruising hold on me during our first encounter. This time, he doesn't direct me. Instead, he lets me take the reins. My heart threatens to fly right out of my chest as I meet Dexter's gaze, his eyes telling me how much he loves me in ways that his words never could.

We move in perfect unison, and as we increase our pace, I bite down on my bottom lip to suppress my desire to cry out. Once I remember that there's no one home but us, I release a throaty moan and Dexter follows suit as he tightens his grip on my hips slightly.

I toss my head back as we find a steady rhythm, mumbling his name in between lust-filled cries. I close my eyes, taking a second to marvel at how well we fit together. There isn't a word in any language that could possibly describe what huge fuck ups the both of us are, but I know that if we've done anything right, it's this. Despite all of the chaos, despite all of the terrible shit that's happened because of us, this just feels _right_. The connection that Dexter and I share transcends the physical, but in this moment, joined with him in a way I thought impossible just weeks before, I feel whole.

Dexter trails his hands up my body, stopping to cup both of my breasts.

"Deb, look at me." He begs.

I drop my eyes down to meet his, flashing that crooked smile that I've reserved only for him at the passion I see in them. He lifts his back off of the bed and envelops me in a tight embrace, pressing his torso firmly against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck as I grind against him faster, pressing my forehead to his.

"I love you so fucking much." He pants, his breath tickling my cheeks.

"I know." I reply.

I keep my eyes fixed on Dexter's as he shudders and releases into me with a labored moan. I reach my peak moments later and he draws me into a searing kiss as I ride out my orgasm.

He lays down onto his back and I roll over to lay next to him. I let out a gleeful giggle in spite of myself, and Dexter raises an eyebrow at me quizzically.

"That bad, huh?" He jokes.

"No! It's just…I'm happy." I answer. "It's funny. You drive me fucking crazy sometimes, but other times, you make me feel like a lovesick teenager. It's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic." He replies, tucking a strand of stray hair behind my ear. "You make me feel the same way."

"For a guy who claims to have been emotionless for most of his life, you sure are oddly sentimental these days. You're just full of surprises, huh?" I ask.

"Yeah…um, speaking of surprises, we really should talk about the elephant in the room." Dexter mumbles.

"What? You mean how you keep fucking my brains out without using a condom? Birth control is only 99% effective, Dex." I tease.

"What?" Dexter asks. His cheeks start to flush, and I fight the urge to laugh. I think this is the first time I've ever seen him blush. "No, not that. I- I have to tell you something about how you got off so easily earlier." He stutters.

I trail my hand down Dexter's slick torso until I find what I'm looking for, wrapping my hand around him and giving a couple of playful strokes.

"I'm pretty sure it had a little something to do with this." I murmur.

"Deb!" He shouts, grabbing onto my wrist and bringing my hand up to rest against his chest. "I'm being serious. It's about Matthews."

"No offense, but the last thing I want to do right now is talk about Thomas Matthews." I reply, wriggling myself out of his grip and sitting up straight on the bed.

"He knows, Deb." Dexter sighs. "About me. He knows about me."

"Wh-what the fuck are you talking about?" I ask in a voice barely above a whisper.

"He approached me today and told me that he's known what I am all along. Harry confided in him before he died, and Matthews promised him that he would look out for us."

"For you, you mean." I correct him, hoping he doesn't catch the slight crack in my voice. "It all makes sense now. My fucking promotion…it wasn't about me, it was about you. He knew that whatever happened, I'd never arrest you. It was all to save _your_ ass."

"Deb," Dexter begins, placing a hand on my cheek. "Don't you ever doubt yourself for a second. Nobody at Miami Metro was half as deserving as you."

"Whatever, it's not like it matters now. What else did he say? You might as well just spit it out." I mumble.

Dexter sighs before picking up his boxers and putting them on. He walks over to the closet and pulls out what looks to be a mini-safe. He hunches over it, blocking my view as he looks inside. After a few seconds, he comes back to me and spreads the items from the box across the sheets.

"What is all this, Dex?" I ask.

"I didn't want it to come to this. It was always for just in case…"

I look through the pile of papers, stopping to pick up the passports. There's one for Dexter, one for Harrison…and one for me.

"You…you want to _run away?_" I ask.

"I don't _want_ to, but we're all out of options, Deb. I'm not going to let you go to prison, and it's only a matter of time before Quinn tells Batista about what he saw and they start putting two and two together. Matthews is doing all he can, but he told me that leaving Miami is my best option, and I know that he's right." Dexter explains.

"How long have you had these?" I ask, inspecting the very impressive fakes. "You just assumed that I'd drop everything and be the fucking Bonnie to your Clyde?"

"I've had them for a while…since before you found out. I never wanted to drag you into my shit, but I knew that if there was anyone I could start fresh with, it'd be you. You and Harrison are all that matter to me." He admits.

"_Fuck._" I sigh. "Fuck! So that's it, then? We just move to some foreign country and start a new life as Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds? Jesus fucking Christ, Dexter!"

"I wouldn't have even brought it up if there were other options, Deb. You know that." He replies.

"Okay." I blurt out. "Fuck. Ever since I walked into that church, a part of me has always known it would end like this. I don't know why we even bothered prolonging the inevitable. We should've bolted after LaGuerta."

Dexter climbs back into bed and wraps his arms around me.

"It's going to be okay, Deb. We'll always be together." He assures me, placing a kiss on my forehead. "As long as we have each other, that's all that matters."

I want nothing more than to believe him, but there's a nagging voice in the back of my mind that's asking how I could possibly be so stupid. For Dexter and I, there is no happy ending.

* * *

"Aunt Deb! Aunt Deb!" Harrison's voice booms across the walls.

"Yeah buddy?" I call out, but he doesn't answer.

How much time has passed? I'm still in Dexter's bed, but he's gone now. I look down and notice that I'm dressed, but I don't remember waking up. I don't even remember falling asleep.

"Harrison…baby, where are you?" I ask, getting out of bed and walking into Harrison's room. I'm surprised to find that he's not there.

"Come here. Come and see what you've done." An unfamiliar voice beckons.

I walk out towards the living room when I suddenly feel something wet and sticky beneath my feet. My eyes fall to the floor and I let out a terrified scream at what I see. I'm standing in a pool of blood. A pool of _Dexter's _blood. His pale form is sprawled out on the floor before me, and though his eyes are vacant, they're wide open and staring directly into mine.

"Dex!" I choke out, collapsing into the pool of blood and placing my hand on Dexter's cheek. It's eerily cold, and I know that this is truly it. He's gone.

A tall, blond haired man dressed in a familiar dark green Henley stands over me, holding a butcher knife that's stained a deep crimson. I look into his eyes, hazel like Dexter's, and see nothing but darkness staring back at me.

"_See_." He says.

"What the fuck!?" I shriek. "Harrison! Harrison, where are you?"

"You don't recognize me, Aunt Deb?" He asks, a devilish grin spreading across his face. "This is how it was meant to be. This has always been our destiny. Come to me. Let me repay you, just like I repaid dad."

"No…no." I mumble, refusing to believe that this monster could possibly be my innocent little nephew. But those eyes, so much like Dexter's…

He grabs me by my hair and savagely drags me across the blood-stained floor. He forces me to stand and holds the knife up to my throat so tight that I begin to gasp for air.

"Like father, like son." He says triumphantly as he carves the knife into my throat.

* * *

"NO!" I scream. "Harrison!"

I reach beside me for Dexter's arm, but he isn't there.

"Dexter!" I yell, feeling hot tears trail down my cheeks.

I know that it was just a nightmare, but I can't bring myself to get out of bed. I'm frozen in place, terrified of what I might find if I take those few small steps into the living room.

"Deb! What's wrong?" Dexter asks, practically bolting into the bedroom.

I jump out of the bed and fling my arms around him, ignoring the fact that I'm still naked.

"H-Harrison." I stutter.

"He's fine, Deb. I just got back from picking him up. Come on, put on some clothes and go spend some time with him. I'm sure he'd love that." Dexter adds.

"We can't fucking do this, Dexter." I cry.

Dexter reaches into his closet and takes out an old t-shirt. He presents it to me and I pull it over my head erratically.

"What's wrong, Deb?" Dexter asks. "What does this have to do with Harrison?"

"It has _everything_ to do with Harrison!" I assert. "We can't do this. I can't let us ruin him."

"Deb, you're not making any sense." Dexter says, holding my face in his hands.

"Did you ever stop to think about what this would do to Harrison? Dragging him from state to state, robbing him of a chance at a normal life? We've already fucked up our own lives, and I've accepted that; but we can't do the same to Harrison's. He can't come with us." I reply.

"He's my son, Deb. I'm not going to just abandon him. I love him." Dexter says, abruptly dropping his hands to his side.

"I know you do, and that's exactly why he can't come with us. I love you so much Dexter, but I won't let Harrison become you. I'll die before that happens, do you fucking hear me?"

"We want the same thing, Debra!" Dexter shrieks. "You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if we left Harrison behind. You love him as if he were your own son."

"Turns out I can live with plenty these days. But what I _can't _live with is your son falling victim to your demons. All I want is to keep him safe, so don't you dare pull that guilt trip shit with me, okay?" I yell.

"The only way that I can guarantee he's safe is to take him out of Miami, Deb. He should be with the people who love him and have his best interests in mind!" Dexter fires back.

"Yeah, which is exactly why he's going to stay with Astor and Cody." I add, moving to stand face to face with him. "It's time to stop being so selfish, Dex. You want Harrison to come with us because you love him and you can't bear to say goodbye, but love is about sacrifice. Giving Harrison up is the hard choice, but it's the right choice. Please, give your son the life you wish you'd had."

A single tear trails down Dexter's cheek, and he doesn't try to mask his anguish as dozens more flood to the surface. He whimpers, introducing me to a vulnerable side that I didn't even know existed.

"Okay," He whispers. "You're right, Deb. We have to save my son."

He sinks down to the floor and I sit beside him, cradling him in my arms. I hold him until the tears stop flowing, silently wondering if I made the right decision. I know that there's no happily ever after at the end of the tragic tale of Dexter and Debra Morgan; but if I'm able to save my nephew's soul, then maybe that doesn't matter. Is the son always doomed to repeat the sins of the father?


	15. Chapter 15

Hi everyone! Wow, I think this has been the longest i've gone without updating, and i'm really sorry about that. I've been pretty busy lately, and for some reason I was hit with some writer's block too, but i'm back and (hopefully) better than ever! lol

Thank you so much for your sweet reviews, I look forward to hearing your thoughts on these next two chapters :)

* * *

"And we're gonna see monkeys, and giraffes, and _lions_!" Harrison exclaims, bouncing up and down in Deb's lap.

"Wow buddy, that sounds like fun!" Deb replies with feigned enthusiasm.

"Can you come with me and daddy?" Harrison begs, poking out his bottom lip. "It's gonna be amazing!"

"Harrison, the trip might not be such a good idea right now." I mumble, earning a sideways glare from my sister.

"Dexter, can I talk to you for a second?" She asks, removing a sulking Harrison from her lap and placing him down on the couch.

I nod in her direction and she gets up and follows me into my bedroom.

"What is it, Deb?" I ask, closing the door behind her.

"You're being ridiculous! Let Harrison go to the fucking zoo." She says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Deb, we need to get out of Miami as soon as possible. If it were up to me, we would've been gone yesterday. The longer we stay, the longer your freedom is at risk. So forgive me if I don't think a trip to the zoo is of the utmost importance." I state dryly.

"He's been talking about this for ages, Dex. Don't be a disappointment right now; he'll be dealing with that for the rest of his life anyway." Deb replies.

"So I'm the fucking bad guy now?" I snap.

Deb pouts just like Harrison had not a minute earlier, and I'm instantly hit with guilt. It's unfair for her to be crucifying me like this when I'm actually trying to do something selfless for once; but still, it's clear that I've hurt her. It seems that no matter what I do, no matter how good my intentions may be, I destroy her every time. But she always comes back for more, because she's in love with the monster that the storybooks tried to warn her about.

And my son…I've hurt him too. I put my own selfish needs before my own child. Deb's suggestion yesterday that we leave Harrison behind broke something within me, but she was right. I have to break the cycle. I have to save my son. However, in doing so, I can't rob him of the one last day of ignorant bliss that he deserves. As time goes on and Harrison grows up without a mother or father, I'll be content knowing that I left him with a good final memory of Deb and I. He'll resent me either way, but at least he'd always have that amazing day at the zoo to look back on.

"Goddammit, Dexter!" Deb begins. "I just want Harrison to – "

"To have a good final memory of us." I interrupt.

"Exactly," she says, grabbing onto my hand. "I know this isn't easy for you, but don't you even fucking think about pulling away from Harrison. It won't soften the blow. You're still his father, and he still needs you."

"I know," I sigh. "But I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you."

"Don't worry about me, Dex. I'm pretty fuckin' tough. You of all people should know that by now." Deb brags, giving my shoulder a playful punch.

"Sure, that's what you want me to believe. But deep down, I know you're still that vulnerable little girl that used to sneak into my room at night." I say.

Deb backs away from me and self-consciously crosses her arms over her chest, wielding both her physical and emotional shields.

"I didn't mean it like that, Deb." I backtrack. "You're the toughest person I know, but you don't have to pretend for me. No one is strong all the time. You're allowed to be scared."

"Good," she replies. "Because I'm fucking terrified."

* * *

"I don't think Angel's coming back, man. He seemed pretty pissed the other day. I even heard that he knocked Matthews out cold…any truth to that?" Masuka asks.

I harden my gaze on the blood reports that are piled in front of me. I'm sure that I've gone over them at least a dozen times today, but I'd much sooner go over them a dozen more than face the alternative. I've been trying my best to keep a relatively low profile before Deb and I leave, but Masuka's constant need to be a nuisance isn't doing me any favors. If he keeps this up, he could very well end up with a pen to the jugular.

"Dex! Hey, speak of the devil." He says, rolling his chair to get a better look out the window.

I do the same and sure enough, there's Angel Batista, carrying nothing but an empty-looking cardboard box.

"Holy shit, they actually did it. They actually fired him." Masuka reports, his mouth hanging open in awe.

Masuka leaps out of his chair to go confront Angel, and I cautiously follow. I know that I should probably mind my own business, but right now Angel is a wildcard. I need to be sure that he doesn't have any tricks up his sleeve that could make this situation any worse. I'm done making mistakes.

"Angel, what the hell is with the box?" Masuka asks. "Don't tell me you've been fired."

"No, I haven't been fired." Angel replies nonchalantly. "I'm just here to give notice. I'm quitting."

"You don't think that's a little rash?" I add in my most friendly tone. "It doesn't have to come to this, Angel. Miami Metro wouldn't be the same without you."

"I'm tired. I can't do this anymore." Angel sighs.

"What do you mean? You love being a cop!" Masuka retorts.

"I loved being a cop back when I believed I was actually making a difference, Masuka. But I can't just stand around while this department lets liars and murderers slip through the cracks." Angel replies, averting his gaze to me and refusing to break eye contact. "I only wish that I hadn't been so blind all these years."

If Masuka catches on to the hostility between Angel and I, he does an awfully good job at hiding it.

"Come on, man. We can –" He begins.

"Save it, Masuka. Nothing you have to say is going to change my mind. Dexter, can I talk to you for a minute, please?" Angel asks.

I silently walk back to the lab and Angel follows, making sure to keep a slight distance between us. I'm not proud of the fact that my former best friend is fearful of me; but if that fear means he'll keep his mouth shut, I'll gladly accept it. He already said way too much in front of Masuka. The last thing I need is more fuel added to the fire.

Once we're inside the lab, I reach behind me to lock the door. Angel jumps at the click of the lock, his eyes darting across the room to look for another exit despite the fact that he and I both know there isn't one.

"I'm not going to hurt you." I say.

"You probably said the same thing to Maria before you killed her. Or was that Deb?" He challenges.

"Deb didn't do anything." I reply half-heartedly.

I'm not even sure why I'm continuing to lie to Batista. At this point, he knows just all about there is to know. Still, a foolish part of me wants to protect my sister's reputation. Angel seeing her as a cold blooded killer would break her heart in ways I could never imagine, so if I can take the fall for her, I should. After all, I'm the reason her entire world has come crashing down.

"So what? You're gonna kill me in the middle of the work day, Dex? Pretty bold." Angel states with an odd sense of admiration in his voice. "I guess I've gotta hand it to you though. You had me fooled this entire time. You had _everyone_ fooled."

"My goal was never to hurt anyone, Angel."

"Sure. Because with killing, there's never any hurt involved." Angel adds sarcastically.

"So…what are you going to do?" I ask.

I think back to when Deb confronted me, literally putting all of my sins on the table. I posed the very same question to her just a few short months ago, and she lashed out at me physically in an attempt to hurt me the way I hurt her. How will Angel react when given the same opportunity?

"What _can _I do, Dexter? Publicly accuse you of being a murderer and wind up like Doakes and LaGuerta? I have a daughter to worry about. And Jaime. I can't believe that I put my little sister in danger like that. I _introduced _you two! I basically handed her to you gift wrapped!"

"I never would have touched Jaime. You know that."

Angel relaxes his posture and makes eye contact with me for the first time since we entered the lab.

"This might make me the stupidest motherfucker on the planet, but I believe you." He says with a weak laugh. "You're a killer…but I still can't hate you, Dexter."

"I appreciate that more than you'll ever know. I –"

"Save it. I may not hate you, but that doesn't mean I _like _you either. Honestly, I'm disgusted. I'm going to be handing over all of the evidence that I have on you in two days, and I expect that you'll be gone by then."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I need to be sure that we have an understanding, Dexter. Please, leave my family out of this. I guess that me giving you a head start is no guarantee, but despite all that I've learned about you these past few days, I'd still like to think of you as an honorable man."

"You have my word." I reply.

I take a second to look at the man before me. The dark circles that have formed under his eyes let me know that he's been waging a war within himself. Ultimately, when faced with a devastating reality, he chose to make a sacrifice to protect his family. I remember wishing years ago that I could be a little more like Angel Batista. Now it's clear to me that deep down, we aren't all that different. He's willing to do whatever it takes to protect what's his, including making a deal with the devil.

"Nobody else has to get hurt because of you, Dexter. Promise me that." Batista begs.

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

* * *

"Hurry up and get your ass back here, fucktard." Deb's voice booms from the other end of the phone.

"I'm just picking something up; I shouldn't be more than an hour." I reply, smiling to myself at Deb's colorful language. "Have you started packing yet?"

"Yeah…but I'm not exactly sure what to put in a suitcase to bring to fuck knows where. Where exactly _are_ you planning on going, anyway?" Deb asks.

"Do you want this gift wrapped?" The store clerk interrupts.

"No, thank you." I reply, covering the phone's mouthpiece so Deb won't overhear. "Just the regular box is fine."

The woman hands me the box and I head out of the store and back to my car.

After a few back and forth's about who misses the other more, I promise Deb that I'll be home soon and hang up the phone. I head back to the station and find Matthews standing alone by the coffee machine, giving me the perfect opportunity to tie up any loose ends before I start my new life.

"Tom." I say, breaking the silence.

"Dexter." He replies calmly, as if the events of the past few days never happened.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'll be gone by the end of the week." I explain, trying to keep my voice low. "If anyone asks, I'm cashing in on some vacation days."

Matthew simply nods, then squints skeptically at something he sees behind me. I turn around and see Joey Quinn staring back at me.

"Shouldn't you be out working the McGill case, Joseph?" Matthews asks, taking a nonchalant sip from his coffee mug.

"None of the leads panned out." Quinn answers coolly. "Planning on taking a vacation, Dex?"

"Yeah, I think some time away would be good for me." I answer with a forced smile.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." Quinn replies. He quickly glares at me and turns sharply on his heel, making his way out of the break room.

I say goodbye to Tom and head back to my car. On the drive home, I consider what Quinn could possibly have planned. There's no way that he would have the nerve to confront me if I wasn't planning something, no matter how underwhelming the confrontation proved to be.

As I make my way up the stairs to my apartment, I tell myself to put Quinn out of my mind. I have something much more important to focus on now. In a few short days, Deb and I will finally be free. And nothing, no one, can stand in our way.

"Hey Deb, I'm back." I call out once I get the door open.

"About time. Come sit." She says, patting the empty couch cushion beside her.

"I have something to tell you." I reply, walking over to stand in front of her. "Stand up."

She rises from the couch, a quizzical expression painted across her face.

"Dexter, what the fuck?" She asks once I get down on one knee.

"Debra, there's something I have to ask you." I say, taking the ring box out of my pocket and opening it to reveal the modest diamond I selected.

"I've never been good with feelings, or emotions, or…love." I begin. "I never thought that I would find the one person that could make the world make sense. For most of my life, I saw myself as a logical man, a smart man. But lately I've been asking myself how I could've possibly been so stupid. Over the years, I yearned for someone who would understand me. Someone who would _accept _me. I threw myself into relationships that I was foolish enough to think would last. I found temporary solutions to a lasting problem, and time and time again I wondered why nothing was going how I felt it should have. It took me too fucking long to realize that everything I'd been looking for was right in front of me all along. You give my life meaning, Deb. You love me, _all _of me. Without you, I'd be nothing. And maybe this is just me being selfish, it wouldn't be the first time, but my only regret in this life is that I didn't realize it sooner. I know that I don't deserve you, and I know that I never will. But I'm going to ask you this anyway. Deb, will you marry me?"

"Fucking hell, Dexter!" Deb cries, tears streaming down her face.

"Look Deb, I know that we'll never have a normal life. We'll never have the white picket fence or the house in the suburbs, but I don't care about any of that. I'll probably never get to see you walk down the aisle in a white dress that you think makes you look like a drag queen and I think makes you look stunning; but we don't need that. I love you with everything I have, and this is me trying to show it." I explain.

My heartbeat thrashes loudly in my ears as I await Deb's response. Her lips quiver as the tears start to flow faster down her cheeks.

"Well…what are you waiting for? Put that fucking ring on my finger." She sniffles.

I let out a sigh of relief and take her outstretched hand in mine. I slide the ring onto her finger, surprised to see that it fits perfectly. Finally, I stand up to see Deb eye to eye.

"I love you. I love you. _I love you_." I chant as she wraps me in her arms.

"I love you, too." She says, holding me tighter.

I surrender completely, relaxing my shoulders and falling into her wholly. I close my eyes and savor the moment. For the first time in my life, I know that I'm finally where I was always meant to be.


	16. Chapter 16

"And here we have a Pygmy goat. Fun fact: this particular breed is often kept as a pet!" The zookeeper explains a bit too eagerly.

"Daddy! Daddy! Can we get one?" Harrison asks, tugging persistently at Dexter's pant leg.

"Harrison, who is going to chase a fucking goat around all day? Oops, uh, I meant a _fudging _goat…" I correct myself. "What? It's not like he isn't used to it by now." I add after Dexter gives me a disapproving look.

"The last thing I need is my son turning into a mini version of you." He jokes.

"If only we could be so lucky." I retort with a mocking smile.

Harrison giggles and I reach down to ruffle his blond tresses. The alluring diamond ring that I still can't believe I'm actually wearing glistens in the Miami sunlight, and I let my hand linger on top of Harrison's head for a bit too long as I admire it.

"Aunt Deb, are you gonna have a wedding?" Harrison asks once I finally remove my hand. "Carlos' mommy had a sparkly ring like that before she had a wedding!"

"Um…I don't know buddy. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens." I reply, turning to face Dexter. We exchange a loaded stare, and I feel the corners of my mouth twist into a small smile.

"Well, I'm gonna be the ring bear!" Harrison declares.

I laugh at his childish mistake, but as the zookeeper guides us through the rest of the tour, my shame starts to overtake me. It breaks my heart to know that these are the last few moments I'll ever have with my nephew. In a few days, he'll be gone; and although I know he'll be better off without Dexter and I, a selfish part of me wants to give the finger to this entirely fucked up plan and take Harrison with us anyway.

But I can't be selfish, there's no room for that now. I have to do whatever it takes to protect him, no matter what it does to me. I hold my hand up to the light and give the ring – _my_ ring – another doting look, silently wishing that it could magically make everything alright. I know that I should be happy, and I _am, _but I still can't shake the feeling that something is about to go really fucking wrong.

* * *

"Who knew that the zoo could make a kid so exhausted?" Dexter asks, his voice echoing from the kitchen.

"Yeah. Well, at least now that he's asleep he'll keep his grubby little hands off of my plate. Speaking of which, hurry up with those fucking steaks, bro." I say, propping my feet up on the coffee table. "I'm dying over here."

"It'll only be a minute. I think you'll put through." Dexter adds teasingly.

"You know, Dex, lately I've been thinking…never mind." I backtrack.

"What is it, Deb?" Dexter asks.

He walks over to the couch carrying a plate in each hand. He places one in front of me and I keep my eyes fixed on it, slicing my knife into the steak with a bit too much determination.

"_Deb,"_ Dexter repeats, placing his hand over mine. "Tell me."

"It's stupid, just forget it." I mumble.

"Don't make me force it out of you." He says, reaching down to tickle one of my sensitive spots.

"Ah, shit. Okay, okay!" I shriek. "I was just thinking about how things _could've_ been, you know?"

"No, what do you mean?"

"I don't know…alternate universe type shit. Like I said before, it's stupid."

"Well, now I _have _to know." Dexter quips.

"I just wonder what we would've been if you and Rudy…Brian…your brother never saw…what you saw. Sometimes, I think about what the first time we met would've been like. Maybe I'd join the force and have to ask about some blood work for a case, and you'd be there. And I'd think wow, this guy is a huge fucking nerd…but he's cute, and smart, and kind, and safe, and _normal. _Of course, I'd be the one to ask you out, because you're the opposite of smooth. We'd go to some restaurant along the beach that's way too fucking expensive, and we'd talk. You know, just _talk. _It wouldn't matter what about, because we'd be satisfied talking about anything as long as it meant being together. By the end of the night, you'd finally work up the courage to kiss me. I'd keep my cool in front of you, but by the time I'd get up to my room, I'd be a screeching, lovesick mess. And we'd keep dating, you know, _normally_ dating, and maybe we'd eventually have a wedding…a _real _wedding. And…and I'm a fucking weirdo." I explain, my words pouring out like one long run-on sentence.

"I'm sorry." Dexter says, sounding legitimately apologetic. "I'm sorry I can't be everything you want me to be."

"Don't apologize," I say, squeezing his hand tightly. "It's not your fault we're so fucked up."

"It is," he sighs. "I've ruined your life."

"No you didn't. Well…maybe a little." I add sarcastically. "But it's about damn time I take responsibility for my own actions, too. You didn't force me into this. I'm here because I _want _to be. It's just nice to fantasize about ordinary things sometimes."

"I understand." Dexter replies, pressing his lips to mine for a short, sweet kiss. "Deb, I can't give you normal, but I promise that I'll try my best to get as close to it as possible."

"To be honest, some A1 would make things feel pretty close to normal right about now." I say, half-joking.

Dexter chuckles as he gets up and gets the bottle of A1 sauce from the kitchen.

"Well, aren't you dutiful?" I ask after he places the bottle on the table in front of me. "I'm thinking I'd like a foot massage next."

"Don't push your luck, Morgan." He answers, rubbing his hand up and down my thigh. "I don't take demands."

"Oh? I think you do." I reply, picking up our plates and moving them over to the kitchen counter. "You know, I seem to remember us having a little unfinished business before all of this shit started hitting the fan. I think it had a little something to do with your tongue on my –."

"Deb!" Dexter shouts.

"What? I was just gonna say clit." I reply provocatively. "No need to act like such a pussy."

"I'm not sure I like you exposing my son to your filthy language, though." He mewls. "Do I have to teach you a lesson?"

"The little rugrat is fast afuckingsleep. And I'd like to see you try." I add. "No man has ever taught me a lesson and lived to tell the tale."

Dexter swiftly gets off of the couch and in the blink of an eye, he's hovering over me.

"Get down on your – hey, put me down!" I yell after he flings me over his shoulder.

He carries me into his bedroom and tosses me down on the bed.

"My name is Dexter Moser," he begins. "And you're Debra Morgan. And this is our _normal _honeymoon, after our _real _wedding."

"You're such a nerd!" I squeal.

"Mmmhmm." Dexter replies, getting down on his knees and tenderly pulling down my pants.

Once he has my pants off, he works on my panties that are an embarrassing shade of baby pink. After a few feather-light touches from his fingertips to my thighs, I feel the wetness of his tongue along my folds.

"Is this good for you?" He asks, stopping his movements for a moment.

"Fuck yes." I moan. "Don't stop."

He gets back to business, expertly twirling his tongue and working me closer to the edge. I sit up and grab onto him, tangling my fingers in his hair as I come undone.

"Fuck." I gasp, collapsing back onto the bed.

"I guess you were right, then." Dexter says, wiping his chin and climbing into the bed next to me. "It hasn't even been two seconds and you're already dropping F bombs."

"I told you it was no use trying to teach me a lesson…but I can't say that I didn't enjoy seeing you try." I reply, flashing a crooked smile. "You know what they say though, if at first you don't succeed…"

"Try, try again." Dexter finishes, trailing his hand down my thigh.

* * *

"Aunt Deb, you seriously have to come to Disney with us. Grandma got us season passes, so we can go whenever we want! You know… if you're into that type of thing." Astor says.

"I would love to, Astor…but our visit isn't actually going to be for very long. It's more of a just stopping by to say hi sort of thing." I answer.

My niece pauses for slightly too long, communicating her disappointment to me loud and clear.

"I'm sure Harrison would love to go, though!" I add, hoping that the thought of spending more time with her little brother will cheer her up.

"What do you mean? He's staying?" Astor questions.

"Yeah. If it's alright with Maura and Bill, Dexter and I were hoping that Harrison could stay with you guys for a little while."

I turn to face Dexter who lays beside me, staring intently as he listens to my every word.

"What did she say?" He mouths.

I hold my pointer finger up, signaling for him to wait.

"That would be great, Aunt Deb. Cody and I really miss him. He's been getting really big, judging by the pictures Dexter has been sending us."

"Yeah, I don't know what the fuck they've been putting in the food these days, because the kid is growing like a weed."

"Okay, that's enough." Dexter says, snatching the phone from my hand playfully. "Hey, Astor. I don't know what the traffic will be like, but I'm thinking that we'll be on the road early tomorrow morning. It's 9:00 now; maybe we'll leave around 4:00 so we can be there by the time you all wake up."

"Which means," I begin, taking the phone back from Dexter. "Aunt Deb needs her beauty sleep. We'll see you tomorrow, Astor."

"Okay, bye Aunt Deb. I love you. Tell dad…um, Dexter…tell Dexter I love him too." Astor replies, abruptly ending the call.

"God, I'm not looking forward to ruining that girl's life. Or Cody's either." I say.

"Deb, you're the one who told me that this is our only option. We can't back out now, not when the police could literally come knocking down our door at any second." Dexter responds.

"I know, but I wish I'd thought this through more. We can't just show up at Bill and Maura's house and leave Harrison at their doorstep like something the fucking stork left behind." I sigh.

"It'll all work out in the end, Deb. This is what's best." Dexter says.

"I fucking hope so." I mumble, studying my ring. Under the dim, glowing light from Dexter's bedside lamp, it looks even more beautiful than before.

"I'll be in the shower if you need me." He says, touching my shoulder reassuringly.

"And _I'll_ be reheating my plate, because I'm hungry as shit." I add, getting out of bed to pull my pants back on.

Once I hear the water start running, I head into the kitchen and pop my plate into the microwave. As I wait for that familiar beep to tell me my food is done, I walk around the apartment and stop when I notice an old picture of me and Dexter. It has to be at least seven or eight years old. I remember that it was taken around the time I first joined the force. For some reason, I've always fucking hated that picture, but seeing it framed and put on display makes me smile in spite of myself. Knowing that Dexter has held on to it for so long makes it feel special in its own way.

Just as the microwave beeps, there's a hard knock on the door. I bite my lip, struggling internally on which to attend to first. After going back and forth with myself on making a decision that seems harder than it should be, I walk over to the door. I wrap my hand around the doorknob, hesitating to turn it. Finally, I put my stupid fears aside and twist the knob, letting the unexpected visitor in.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" I ask.

"I was hoping I'd find you here. Come on, let's go." Joey says, reaching his hand out to me.

"Quinn, turn around and go the fuck home." I reply, placing my shaking hands behind my back.

"Deb, you can come with _me_, or you can come with Dexter. But I promise you, you won't like where he's going."

"Jesus Christ, Joey!" I scream. "Go home. _Please_."

Without a word, Quinn pushes past me and enters the apartment.

"Dexter Morgan!" He screams. "Come out with your hands up."

He reaches for the holster and brandishes his gun, pointing it towards the bedrooms.

"Where is he?" He asks.

"Joey –"

"Either tell me where he's hiding, or let me fucking handle this myself!" He screams, making an abrupt about face and pointing the gun at me.

"Fucking _stop it_!" I yell, my voice screeching as tears start to pour from my eyes.

"Deb, it's up to me now. I have to do what you couldn't." Quinn says, lowering his gun and starting towards the bedroom.

Just then, Dexter emerges from the bathroom. He's dressed, but his hair is still dripping wet.

"Don't take another step, Quinn." He says threateningly. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Yeah? Well, too bad I don't feel the same about you." Quinn says, stepping closer to Dexter and raising his gun. He clicks off the safety, and the sound ricochets in my mind.

He puts his finger on the trigger, and without thinking, I force myself between the two men. I close my eyes, waiting for the darkness to overtake me.


End file.
